She followed the path without question, as millions before her had done Took pride in reaching each milestone, as she ticked them off one by one She towed the line and rose upwards; strong, straight, steady and true But slowly began to falter, as the next milestone vanished from view She paused to gather her strength, then picked up the pace once more Reaching towards the canopy, as she had always done before But the ground at her roots became boggy, churned to a deep sucking mud The urge to go higher consumed her, though she began to doubt that she could Energy spent, she grew still, though a voice said she must go on We can’t stay here it whispered to her, we’ll be late if we don’t move along Late for what? Asked a passing earthworm, who seemed able to read her mind Late for the next milestone said she, though it’s proving hard to find What’s a milestone? Asked the earthworm, as he frolicked in the mud at her feet They’re markers I need to get to, so that my growth can be complete The worm looked at her for a moment, before giving a shake of his head I see no part of you that’s missing; let’s find this milestone instead She sighed as despair weighed heavy, pushing her down in the mud She had no idea of the what or where, though every branch of her screamed she should Deflated and tired she curled inwards, if she had eyes they would surely weep Silent tears to soak the earth, as she drifted to the deepest of sleeps She slept through the coming seasons; through the rain, wind, sleet and snow The earthworm steady beside her, as he witnessed her change and grow First her leaves crisped brown, drifted down, then her trunk gathered moss at its base Her branches so bare she might have been dead: she withdrew from the skywards race In sleep her gaze turned inwards, where she saw connection to more than herself Her roots in the ground, spread all around, nourished her sisters and Earth itself It matters not who grows the tallest, she thought, or reaches the clouds with their leaves The pattern below is important, intertwining as our tapestry weaves The warming kiss of a gentle spring breeze, breathed life to her being once more She stirred with a newfound purpose, clarity dawning like never before She reached out to her sisters around her, gently touched each tree Our growth is not in milestones, she said, but the fullest expression of who we can be Hazel made it her mission, to spread this knowing to each saplings soul Each tree in the forest stood proud: one part of a much bigger whole Growing shoulder to shoulder, no matter their width or height Giving each other all that they need, as they soak in the sun’s warm light And what of our friend the earthworm? He lived out his days in the shade at her feet Hazel never forgot the kindness he’d shown Their friendship forever complete.

I’ve been missing synchronicity in my life lately, but just as I noticed it was missing, there it was again; reminding me it’s always there, just sometimes I’m not on the right wavelength to see it. Earthworm’s have been crossing my path lately, but where I would normally ascribe meaning to creatures I encounter, for some reason I ignored them.
Then a friend who was helping me edit some of my poems commented on the use of the word’ tapestry’ in my rhyme, Making Time, and the significance this word holds. The next day I was thinking about the earthworms and wondering if I should write about them when I remembered I’d already written a poem that featured one: this poem. When I found it, guess what word it had in it? Tapestry. The poem also seemed to carry with it words that I needed to read, and led me down a tapestry rabbit hole to a brilliant article which reminded me of the ever changing nature of the tapestry of life, and the importance of unweaving what no longer serves us, as we reweave our tapestry in the pursuit of what brings us alive.
All that from an earthworm (or several earthworms) that continued to cross my path until I noticed them; thank you Universe.
Here’s the article if you’re interested:
Thanks for joining me for another Monday rhyme time; Sunday seems to have escaped me, but that’s okay, I make my own time (most of the time…okay it’s a work in progress, but I’m trying.)
How are things in your world? You had any synchronicities lately?
What’s as interesting is not just the story itself but the mind that pondered and wrote it.
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You’re very kind, thank you 😊
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Thank you for writing this and linking to the article. You said it in that growth is fully expressing who we are. I like the idea of unweaving my life, forming it into something new that suits me now “when the ‘story’ we created begins to limit who we are.” Very wise thoughts here.
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Thanks Ally, glad you enjoyed it. I like that idea too.
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I think Carole King shared a similar concept in her song, Tapestry. I find the words enigmatic but it seems to include a story about expectation and failure, but ends with unraveling the tapestry of life. Do you know it? The album was quite popular in its day.
I suppose the danger for me would be to improve on the previous tapestry and fall short. Unraveling would be easy but I’d grieve, or be angry with myself, over the brilliant lost one. Come to think of it, I’m sure that’s already happened before. 🙂
I found the article interesting, thanks for linking it.
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I do know the album, I have t listened to it in it’s entirety but know many of the songs, I actually looked it up when I was writing this article & thought I just listen to it the whole way through.
I think you’ve said how many of us feel there; it’s hard to unravel not knowing what comes next, or if we’d like the new weaving more, there definitely a level of trust involved.
I’m trying to apply it to my writing at the moment. I find editing very hard & grieve lines or stanzas as I cut them out entirely, not sure if I’ve made the poem better or worse, but hoping I’ll learn to write better in the long run!
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I’m not a poet but have tried it and there’s a point where I just know it’s overworked and loses something it had when it just came out of my head. The thing is I’m afraid I don’t read enough poetry to get to know the basics.
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You have me worried now as I don’t read a lot of Poetry and I definitely don’t know the basics! 🤣. (Only recently found out I’m fond of a rhythm called an iambic pentameter because a friend told me that’s what it’s called). I’m trying to branch out though, read more, and pay a bit more attention to what I’m writing. Everything’s a work in progress!
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