Time Unmeshed Poem by Bill Galvin

Sometimes there develops a hole in the fabric…
Of our time, of the fabric of our life,
Of the tapestry of our journey.

It's no one's fault…
Could just be the result of Life happening,
While we were making other plans.

We can deplore it; or we can accept it,
And make good use of what is remaining.
It would be futile to try to repair it ourselves,
For the Universe weaves as it will,
And the Universe repairs as it will.

It is in the weaving of the daily strands of our selves,
Intermeshing to build a stronger something…
A something that becomes usable, wearable for our Souls.

Imagine these strands searching for the next connection.
Imagine one, two… or four…
Like the fingers from each of our hands…
Interwoven together until set and comfortable,
And pulled tighter, and tighter still,
As if a great Seamstress controlled the weaving,
Till the strength-to-lightness ratio is the best,
Till it can support the weight of our consignments,
Till it can shed the rain of our discomforts.

Imagine these as strands of Time, and Life and Spirit,
Stretching and reaching, like the intelligent tendrils
On unlimited vines of morning glory plants,
Twining into space with their curling ringlets,
Sensing the next grab-hold, hand-hold, soul connection,
From which to build a firmer fabric,
From where to move onward further still.

My tapestry has a hole in it; a time became unmeshed;
But my Seamstress is already weaving me new fabric;
And that void should be behind me soon.

Imagine these strands with color… pick your own…
My tapestry has blue, yellow/green, a bit of white…
For the low-angled Spring sun, in a clear sky today,
Is shining on me through big windows,
Brightening the pleasant new greenery
Of the trees and bushes nearby.

4-28-2016