Throwback: The Room of Tapestries

I stand bewildered in the Room of Tapestries, and watch as looms of Fate weave the courses of lives. I wonder if it's worth anything to try and find the lines of my life among the invisible threads that crisscross all around me.

Photo by Javid Naderi on Unsplash

I settle myself on the floor, cross-legged, and look up at the open sky above. The room has no ceiling, for reasons long since forgotten.

Outside, the last glimmers of sunset disappear behind a moss-covered hill. Lady Night spreads her mantle over the sleeping world. The humming in the Room of Tapestries becomes louder, more noticeable. The clack-clack of the many shuttles becomes faster, accelerating the rhythm of twilight into resonance with the night.

The threads of a billion fates glitter in the moonlight above me. No longer invisible, they float like eerie insects on jeweled wings. I gaze up and up, till where the walls of the Room blend gently in with the indigo ceiling, studded with stars.

A billion wishes whisper upon the wind that now blows gently through this Room of Secrets. The wind dances on the threads of this Eternal Tapestry, with little regard for the Silence of the Decided. It changes patterns in accordance with the whimsical patter of its fairy feet. Lives change in the blink of an eyelid, in the time it takes for a single tear to fall to the ground. A million and two sighs are heard above the disapproving clackety-clack of the orthodox shuttles. A million and two sighs of relief.

A baby is saved from the greedy clutches of some unspeakable danger. A girl slams the door on the path to hell. A boy speaks the words that give him release. A father learns to let go. A mother learns to listen. A bird sits upon the hedge in the virgin light of dawn and sings a song of defiance at the dangers of the world.

A second, and a wish upon the wind. And sometimes that's all that makes the difference, all that's needed to end life as we know it.

Written October 1, 2010