(no subject)
The true weaver tells us by Katrina Villanueva. Written September 6 2021 for Rosh Hashanah. Deceiver deceptions miscalculations of anthropoids limbs of confusions but fair wisdoms truth of warps and beauty in precision wefts nullifies this jumpstarted bullies profusions of egocentric verbal not visual machinations mere lies. Paradise would not be so lost in a diagram of faith calculations caulked in amber and wine rose mint lettuce ambrosia. Tapestry of love one. Tapestry of love sixes and sevens. Threads of gold from tales of old not fictive impulses but odes and lores loves gains and morals mores. The stuff of legends to remember in the bloods past the crypts of these eventual details not lost in bone rot not divided in halfsies one whore clamoring to kill the babe child the real mother bowing in submission to Gods glory of a handicraft of meek gurgling trusting infant flesh a work of vulnerability fledgling trust in delight of only an infant's open eyes. Spiders hatching in the faces of the similarly bereaved and besieged aged ancients promising the opposite of futulities to change their minds through threats to sim simp cries the minds bodies sway for change sub swapping maliciously trawling for manufactured votes fake phoned in through drugged hypnosis. Minerva smiling frowning too concerned seeking after her friends replies not quite oblivious to those poison spiders the muddled arachne weaving her inferior tough pastries of lies to die in hell of jealousy artifice imploding. And baby Hera sang reborn for Jesus arms ever Vishnu in her new warm blanket.
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