The Silk Song

This life a weave, and such a glorious one,
all our dreams but the thread we spin
and when the spool of our will undone,
this life we lead, in its fall rests thin,
how many moments, vague though present
caress the earth our quivering knees,
while the hopeful now left for hope yet absent
like naked weeping lost mulberries.
In this spring of escaping time,
how many leaves must fall unheeded,
how many yarns of this silk benign
must we spin for our souls unneeded,
Perhaps there is more, beyond the folds
of hanging lies our lives have been,
and amidst the sound of slipping gold
lulls the siren dubbed the unforeseen.
But among the adhering, unfeeling beings
there are a few who cease to long,
fewer still are the hearing, seeing,
and only some who discern the song,
the song of life, not that of silk,
while the boughs mourn and mulberries weep,
as the life woven by a life a’wilt
in only death can this silk we keep.

26 thoughts on “The Silk Song

  1. I love poetry have for most of my life and have only dreamt of being able to write it, but our Heavenly Father had other plans for me. I especially liked this one, very much. I like how your poetry causes you, no makes you think! Good work and keep on doing —I’ll be following your blog for sure! God bless!

    1. Thank you so much, dear Pastor, and you needn’t envy my humble talent, as a man of religion, you speak the love of God, that is something truly enviable and worth coveting.
      Osama Iftikhar

  2. You have stunning imagery, and excellent rhymes and word play. I feel, however, that the subject matter fails to captivate. Nevertheless, you are an excellent writer, and I look forward to seeing what else you produce.

    1. Thank you so much, I do admit that some of my writing can be esoteric and only those who feel exactly as I do can comprehend its meaning. But that is inveterate to me, and I do appreciate your acknowledgement notwithstanding this shortcoming.

      1. Think nothing of it. I have every faith your ability. No doubt, there is greatness in you.

  3. Oh, I love this! It has a beckoning, just-out-of-reach quality with wistful, dreamlike imagery. The mulberries were the grounding point for me, and my favorite element of the poem. We had a mulberry tree when I was growing up, and the berries were so sweet and rich, but they stained everything that touched them….the ground, our hands, our shoes. Your weeping mulberries captivated me deeply; they bleed their wine into the earth and leave all those who taste them wanting more. The “season” observation of life makes us keenly aware of time (and its precious fruits, represented by berries) slipping through our fingers. Only the thread of “Life”—knowing it is there underneath the changing seasons, though death seems to loom larger in winter—keeps us from despair.

    1. You captured the essence of my work more or less, and it is such an honor when a reader strives to comprehend the at times humble efforts of a writer such as myself, I owe you thanks Lurana, it truly is a compliment.
      Osama Iftikhar

  4. An inspiring work, beautiful and melodious. True music has no bounds, as does your thinking ๐Ÿ™‚
    You’ve won a fan.

  5. Such an exquisite interpretation – I have never thought of life in such terms before. This certainly gave new insight. Your poem is so synesthetic and artfully woven indeed!

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