Poetry of the Weaver – poetic symbolism of wrists and hands
Threads of lace, tears stretched into beauty,
Radiant web of the heart, you stir the bonds.
We are that tipping point before we sink to the other side.
We’ve done as much as we can.
We have supported the fires so that they could be fulfilled.
Solstice, vision of heights, they rolled over the crest.
I am the beauty of the offering of what is.
Full of every shred of life, adorned with flesh and emotion.
I am the one who forgets herself in the intensity of the bonds.
I pass through the material of life and am reborn resplendent.
I am the Weaver,
the mystery of upraised hands exploring the air.
I dance in the web of relationships like a sensitive ecstasy.
I draw to us the field of stars.
I am the Weaver, doorway to mysteries
From the body and the heart the invisible are born
After me come the stars, the harvest of the infinite.
With the precise length of my fingers, we forge humanity.
Read the article on the symbolism of wrists and hands and the archetype of the Weaver : click here