Member Poem

The tailor has sewed into patterns cum designs
As he grinned and said, 'Life is a yard of Fabric,
A fabric so spread to the surface of the thin and thick...'
This is the way a life is sewed
By the tailor to his tastes and designs
With measurements through length of it's begins and exit.
I can, said he, Breathe into it and make each
Fabric dance on a man's body
What's next?
The tailor after breathing into each piece
Patterns then it, piece by piece
Till an holistic life yard is completed
And when each Piece errs,
'I can, scold it with my tools'
And what tools, are they harsh and brutal?, I asked.
'The rhythmic threads and soft needle...
So each piece can dance well on a man's body', he replied and continued
'I scold each piece not to injury,
That they may drag me to court? No!
'I scold each piece that after the elapse of it lengths, expiration takes it place and it wears out, torn and trampled into the Earth,
They may humbly crawl back to the tailor
That will repair with remission;
Lo, to err is Human, to forgive is divine.
And all began again, as fabrics are moulded into patterns
When breath of life flows through it,
And each piece of the fabric follows the lead...
But to him that erred, and worn out and trampled into the earth,
May humbly crawl back to the tailor
Who once upon a time
Created man, even in his own image.