Weaver
So precious is this life, this gift,
this temporary blindness.
this temporary blindness.
Building things never used to go so poorly until the portals opened. Could she blame the portals for this sudden hardship? Honestly, she could just blame it on the fact she’d never had much reason to actually build. Fix up the house? Certainly. Help a neighbor? Totally. Build a bar or a spa or whatever? Nope. Not a once. Fine, so that’s probably the real reason, but she’d rather blame her poor luck on the portals. Even though it doesn’t make sense.
The curtains pool on the floor as the rope gives way. At least she hadn’t started with the beeswax, because then she’d just have a mess. Stifling a sigh, Weaver begins to knot the rope where it’s broken, restring the curtains, and hang the ends that had come loose. Maybe the second time, and not the third, would be the charm.
***
Weaver fixes the ropes and rehangs everything (well, she tries, lol).
The curtains pool on the floor as the rope gives way. At least she hadn’t started with the beeswax, because then she’d just have a mess. Stifling a sigh, Weaver begins to knot the rope where it’s broken, restring the curtains, and hang the ends that had come loose. Maybe the second time, and not the third, would be the charm.
***
Weaver fixes the ropes and rehangs everything (well, she tries, lol).
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark,
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
