Not thread by thread is life’s design,
but star to star, a broken line.
A sudden kindness, cruelest blow,
the lovely face, the shadowed foe.
They blaze and fade, yet still remain,
the searing joy, the piercing pain.
While all the rest—long hours of gray—
dissolve to silence, swept away.
So watchful eye, the moments gaze,
like blossoms bright in fleeting days.
They linger soft, then drift aside,
as rivers run and seasons slide.
A star, a cloud, a face, a hand,
a butterfly alights on sand.
A scent, a breeze, a fleeting taste—
such gifts endure, though time lays waste.
In the moment or memory’s caress,
life’s secret riches lie in this.
Northcoast Antiquarian 