|Please don't use the "Send Page" feature of your
computer to send this entire page in an e-mail
message or document format. If you'd like to share
it, please just send the link. The link to this page is:
|I sat by my loom in silence, facing the western sky;
The warp was rough and tangled, the threads did not evenly fly.
Impatient, I pulled at the fibers; they snapped and flew from my hands.
Weary and weak and sore hearted, I gathered the broken strands.
I had shades of blue to work with - blue like the heavens above -
And tangled in all the meshes were the golden threads of love.
But they were dulled by my handling, the pattern was faded and gray,
That once to my eager seeming shone fairer than flowers in May.
Alas, not half of my pattern was finished at the set of the sun.
What should I say to the Master, when I hear him call, "Is it done?"
I threw down my shuttle in sorrow, I'd worked through the livelong day.
I lay down to slumber in darkness, too weary to think or to pray.
In my dreams, a vision of splendor, an angel, smiling faced,
With gentle and tender finger, the work of the weavers traced.
He stooped with a benediction o'er the loom of my neighbor near,
The threads were smooth and even and the pattern perfect and clear.
I waited in fear and trembling, as he stood by my tangled skein,
For the look of reproach and pity that I knew would add to my pain.
Instead, with a thoughtful aspect, he turned his gaze upon me;
And I knew that he saw an image of my work as I'd hoped it would be.
And with touch divine of his finger, he traced my faint copy anew,
Transforming the clouded colors and letting the pattern shine true.
I knew in that brief moment, as his look pierced my very soul through,
I'd been judged not so much by my doing, as by what I had striven to do.
-- Author Unknown
|The photographs on this page were taken in Portugal. Most are from
the island of Madeira, one of Portugal's two autonomous regions (the
other being the Azores). The beautiful island is known for its
Madeira wine, breathtaking scenery and embroidery artisans.
The island has, also, become famous for its annual New Year's
celebration, featuring the largest fireworks show in the world.
About a million tourists visit the small island every year.
|I believe in the world and its bigness and splendor,
That most of the hearts beating round us are tender.
I believe in the path that today I am treading,
That I shall come safe through the things I am dreading.
I believe that all things that are living and breathing
Some richness of beauty to earth are bequeathing.
I believe creeds are just colors...and no man has said
That God loves the yellow rose more than the red.
-- Edgar Guest