Welcome to the Creative Projects page. This is where I’ll post poems, or excerpts from other creative writing projects I’m working on.
By Stephen Ritchie
Strings of yarn, black, white, red, gold and green. They all have the same origin, fabricated in a factory, Yes, different colors, but spun from the same kind of machine. Intertwined they could tell by tapestry, a grand story, But for now, they are just individual threads, spun out by one Fate, measured by another, and then cut. A process that is very orderly. If they’re just another string produced by machine, they wait Until they are measured and cut. They simply lack purpose. Unless someone saw their potential, believed they could be something great. So, what if instead they were handwoven by a person? A person who, because he made them, loved Them enough to see their potential hidden below the surface. This weaver will have the strands become a work worth talking of, A tapestry forming a story in the picture. What he weaves are creations undreamed of. Interwoven into a single unit, like a chair of wicker, They could be connected like puzzle pieces, Each string an element in a holy mixture. Every thread, every color essential to his masterpiece. Until the end we will not see their collective destiny; But once this maker starts a work, it will not cease. Our lives are each a thread of tapestry, We only ever see our string, But in God’s hands, he can weave us into history
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