The tapestry of light shone bright. She had made it herself, woven it from the colours in her eyes. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, refracting within and from the embedded diamond crystals. The tapestry sang to her, its music as harmonic as its light was colourful. She hung this sheet of beauty and wonder between herself and the dark, screaming monsters in her mind, to try to overwhelm her perceptions so that she could no longer hear and see them, so that they could no longer haunt and torment her. Did it work? Perhaps a little.
The stars against the black sky were like a tapestry against black velvet. She knew that she shouldn’t seem them that way, as a tapestry was finite, with defined borders but this view of space and the stars was infinite. She guessed it could be an infinite tapestry but still that concept was limited by her own mind.
The threads weave in and out, like the sunlight fell through the trees that day, as we let the white hounds run. But that was a flurry of canine slobber and snapping branches as the deer run hurriedly, not this one that waits patiently for it’s fate.
The tapestry of light shone bright. She had made it herself, woven it from the colours in her eyes. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, refracting within and from the embedded diamond crystals. The tapestry sang to her, its music as harmonic as its light was colourful. She hung this sheet of beauty and wonder between herself and the dark, screaming monsters in her mind, to try to overwhelm her perceptions so that she could no longer hear and see them, so that they could no longer haunt and torment her. Did it work? Perhaps a little.
The stars against the black sky were like a tapestry against black velvet. She knew that she shouldn’t seem them that way, as a tapestry was finite, with defined borders but this view of space and the stars was infinite. She guessed it could be an infinite tapestry but still that concept was limited by her own mind.
The threads weave in and out, like the sunlight fell through the trees that day, as we let the white hounds run. But that was a flurry of canine slobber and snapping branches as the deer run hurriedly, not this one that waits patiently for it’s fate.