Unique Tapestries
A beautiful jersey with a cable pattern illustrating Many
Worlds Theory by weaving infinite threads of parallel
alternative events into cables spiralling rhythmically
in colour, sound and form
Evoking feeling and emotion, influencing choices which
change the future and past, creating unique tapestries on
the loom of the gods, threads made up of consciousness
shimmering in and out of existence
History is not an unfolding of preset events, but it is shaped
by every thought, plan, desire, wish, vision and dream; every
pattern is formed by free innovation, the alternative universes
of possible choices
Create the time-loop cables in reality’s tapestry, threads fork
innumerable times before converging again to continue the
enchanting patterns that keep gods and men staring
at the infinite possibility of probabilities…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Beautiful Cables (2) (Science poems)
Admiring the cables in the jersey Alta knit, asked
her - May I photograph it? – she brought me the
pattern – Now you can knit one yourself - mistaking
cable enthusiasm for craftwork interest - and I
smiled, not on your life
The beautiful cables just illustrate Many Worlds
Theory, every time we make a decision – coffee,
not tea, to the shops, not the sea - the universe
is said to split; yet I think it simply forms a bulky
cable at that point, then
Alternative lines come together in one direction -
maybe just like the Virgo supercluster movement
in which the Milky Way Galaxy travels - towards
the Great Attractor, like the Seven Samurai said,
small deviations in variables
Only create more cables in beautiful patterns, the
overall movement is steady; as we sway, the sun
spirals around the Milky Way, up and down like a
merry-go-round horse, all parallel universes
moving together - forming
Lovely cable patterns along the way, a delight
only seen by the gods…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Oh Those Threads
Oh those threads
beautiful threads
coming together
gold and silver
tears and laughter.
creating a pattern
U and I, fashioning
us.
knotted so closely
refusing to fray
a lovely tapestry
inter-woven over
the years
Oh those threads
beautiful threads
together at last.
poem by Heather Burns
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Spinning Threads
Spin the threads of
life
creating a golden
tapestry.
Weave together love
and memories,
how it was yesterday.
Being woven together
on the loom of life.
Spin threads of gold
and silver,
to make a tapestry
of delight.
Spin the threads of
gold,
spin the events of
life.
poem by Heather Burns
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Parents are like shuttles on a loom. They join the threads of the past with threads of the future and leave their own bright patterns as they go.
quote by Fred Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tapestry for Life
The weaving of many
threads together
creating a beautiful
tapestry.
A tapestry for life.
Two young lovers
carressing in the moon
light.
Planning for a future
weaving their tapestry
for life.
poem by Heather Burns
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Spinning A Web
Spinning in the web
of time
threads blending
together
gold and silver
yours and mine
creating a lovely
tapestry of events.
poem by Heather Burns
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Infinite Consciousness
Perception of solidity
is the brain’s interpretation of
various frequencies
Received as biochemical and
electrical signals from the
physical senses
Which the mind weaves into
the beautiful illusions of
reality
Consciousness energy creates the
universe by projecting through
the interference patterns of
waves of energy
We and all we perceive are manifestations
of the consciousness which created
this - our universe
In fact, we ARE this consciousness that always is,
that is never gained or lost, that only changes form
We are part of Infinite Consciousness while
physical form is just a receptacle, particles
which began as infinite possibilities in the
wave-interference-pattern
When conscious energy is applied like light
shining on a three-dimensional holographic
image, the particles become fixed in time
and space to create the illusion which
we call The Universe
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Weaving
Adding the beauty of every illusion to
my own vision of a beautiful universe,
the sweet sound of Germanic song, the
stark beauty of Rumi, the Sufi poet, the
lovely rhythm of a song in Creole
It does not matter that these examples
have no substance, colour and form; the
shimmering colours appears in the dark
chocolate of the organ notes, the silver
bells of flutes and piccolos
The form is round and strong, there are no
straight lines in words and song, everything
consists of swirling mist, last night I saw the
weaving of Many Worlds, every decision splits
the weaver’s thread into many bits
Weaving side by side, forming patterns like
cables, curling spirals spinning around each
other for evermore…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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To Be Home Again
Oh!
To return to those precious
moments,
Where little people dance
inside the ring.
we stroll in the meadow,
stop and refresh ourselves
Lauralee is weaving a lovely
tapestry,
threads of gold and silver,
woven so closely together,
Papa is gathering threads
for her loom.
In the distance a beautiful
flower appears,
I hear a faint song, yet so
familiar,
sitting on his favorite petal,
my fairy man,
It's so good to be home again.
poem by Heather Burns
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Change Heals
Chaos;
The Mother of change
Matter falling apart
Only to gather again
Infinite probabilities
Re-forming…
What of human chaos?
Internal change...
Events, emotions falling apart through
Accumulated experience, pain, suffering
With choices determining probabilities
Re-forming…
Befriend chaos
Befriend thyself
Allow chaos
Allow change
“The only real truth on Earth is change”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Golden Threads
Golden threads inter-woven,
Comforter in disguise,
From a thread, emerges a
pattern,
Friendship to materialize,
Ever exploring, then deciding.
Disappointed, then surprised.
Golden threads refuse to sever,
Ore the years with patience
tied.
poem by Heather Burns
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Particle Wave Reality (Revised)
Solidity is perception of electric
biochemical signals, frequencies
received by physical senses, the
mind weaves these into realities
as beautiful illusions
Energy of consciousness creates
the Universe - projecting through
interference patterns of random
energy-waves
We and all that we perceive, are
manifesting the Consciousness
which created this Universe; we
are Consciousness that always
is, never gained or lost, only
changing form
We are Infinite Consciousness
held in receptacle particles that
began as endless possibilities
formed by patterns in wave-
interference-patterns
We apply conscious energy like a
shining light on holographic three-
dimensional images to fix particles
in time and space and thus create
our illusionary Universe
[Summary of article on the Internet:
http: //www.bibliotecapleyades.net/
ciencia/ciencia_ quantum09.htm]
[ORIGINAL]
Solid ity is the brain’s perception of
biochemical and electrical signal
frequencies received by our physical
senses – which the mind weaves
beautifully into illusions of reality
It is energy of consciousness which
creates The Universe, projecting
through interference patterns of
random energy-waves
We, and all we perceive, are the
manifestations of consciousness
which created this – our Universe;
we ARE in fact consciousness that
always is, is never gained or lost,
that only changes form
We’re part of Infinite Consciousness
while physical form is a receptacle,
particles which began as infinite
possibilities in wave-interference-patterns
When conscious energy is applied
like shining light on a three-dimensional
holographic image, the particles become
fixed in time and space to create the
illusion which we call The Universe
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I Rebel
The Norns who weave the tapestry
which rules the fate of mortal men.
Can make mistakes apparently
and some time have to think again.
Though each one blames the other two
and none will admit to their mistake
They have to weave the threads anew.
A lengthy process which can take
almost the life span of a man.
But even Norns are governed by.
The need to heed the master plan,
they have no choice the rules apply
A single thread that’s out of place
can alter mankind’s history.
So they comply with little grace.
What is to be must come to be.
Has man no choice but play the part?
They’ve woven in their tapestry
His path through life right from the start
is fore ordained: no man is free.
The three weird sisters can foresee
future events and bind them fast,
As pictures in their tapestry.
No mortal man can overcast.
The lasting spell the sisters weave.
Although he thinks his will is free.
It matters not what we believe
and therein lies the mystery.
If we believe that this is true.
We are but puppets on a string
and there is little we can do.
To change the slightest little thing.
But I rebel I don’t believe
and make my way as best I can
Accomplish what I can achieve
I am no puppet I’m a man.
22-Sep-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Write About
Fairy tales
golden rings
silver threads
magic things
life and such
all the hush
smiles and tears
o'er the years
spinning dreams
weaving threads
gold and silver
in my head
life's tapestry
sweet and true
threading a
needle with you
poem by Heather Burns
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Manifesto [ORIGINAL & REVISED]
[REVISED]
Okay – I admit romance does not exist, at least
not in this quaint veracity which claims it has a
place somewhere but rarely ever here
I shall not cry about discovery of circumstance
that fact is non-existent in romance – reality a
chance one does not really have to see
Anyone can prove it lives eternally in dreams, a
never dying sustenance of many Worlds beliefs
with energies too dominant to ever die
If fantasy alive and well then I admit against my
better judgement I’ve been hurt; but add in haste
it does not matter since it truly breathes
In Worlds as infinite or parallel, I do not need the
proof of our reality – a mere perchance of it as
probability enough - the vastness of infinity
allows for every choice and dream or hope and
expectation to exist – I do not need accord to see
romance, or merely mention the ideal -
of fantasy, hopes, & dreams to make it true for me,
I shall avoid reality, live in dreams encompassing
imaginings I’ve always gladly had or harboured to
excess; therefore your attitude, and lack of feeling
means a blank to me; cannot kill the vision I shall
cherish from now on until eternity arrives…
[ORIGINAL]
Okay, I admit, romance does not exist – at least not
in this reality; but the fact that we can dream about
romance is proof it does exist somewhere
I shall not cry about my loss – discovering that
romance is non-existent – reality is only a mirage,
one parallel world amongst many – I do not need
Anyone to prove that romance lives on in our dreams,
nothing can kill it; no negative word, no pain, no dis-
illusionment, can kill the many worlds theory
Where fantasy is alive and well - I admit, against my
better judgement, I have been hurt; but hasten to add
it does not matter since romance is alive and well
In infinite parallel worlds - I do not need proof in our
little world of intersubjective reality – mere possibility
is probability enough - the vastness of infinity
Allows for every choice, dream, hope and expectation
to exist – I do not need you or anybody else to agree
to feel romance; merely mentioning the ideal -
- fantasy, hope and dream - makes it true for me, I shall
leave reality and live within a dream encompassing
every thought, hope and ideal
I have ever harboured; your attitude and being, your lack
of feeling, means nothing to me; cannot kill the vision
I cherish unto eternity…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Widow McFarlane
I was the Widow McFarlane,
Weaver of carpets for all the village.
And I pity you still at the loom of life,
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands,
If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth.
For the cloth of life is woven, you know,
To a pattern hidden under the loom i
A pattern you never see!
And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon-white strip of cloth,
You laugh in your strength, for Hope o'erlays it
With shapes of love and beauty.
The loom stops short! The pattern's out!
You're alone in the room! You have woven a shroud!
And hate of it lays you in it!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When the first flint, the first shell, was shaped into a weapon, that action shaped man. As he molded and complicated his tools, so they molded and complicated him. He became the first scientific animal. And at last, via information theory and great computers, he gained knowledge of all his parts. He formed the Laws of Integration, which reveal all beings as part of a pattern and show them their part in the attern. There is only the pattern; the pattern is all the universe, creator and created.
quote by Brian Aldiss
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mama
Behind every life a Weaver ultimately
stands shrouding His plan for every man.
Dark threads are needful in the Master's
skillful hands for He knows the pattern He has planned.
What tapestry in mama's heart He wove, the
sacrifice self was decomposed. Love was
her goal, to train me up in ways I went with
Mama the time was well spent. His tapestry thread
of gold.
I've learned life's lessons when I've
grieved with lashes wet that God's plans
are right. Each life closes into
night and death has fused out temporal
light that this time is perfectly right.
The Weaver is interweaving the silver in the horizon of night.
The loom of which she's wove can never be diffused by
temporal light, for in thee does she repose. A crown of Glory she holds, she's the lily pure and white that He chose.
poem by Vanita Allgood
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Easter Day
The cavern of departure lounge,
with sadness and farewell.
The dark unconscious,
unresolved foundations of day.
Threads of Oedipus
and the leavetakings of life,
with Passover lintils of blood.
Then the Other side,
joys embraced, threads joined
a tapestry turned around.
A new beginning,
like computers ikon entry.
The daffodil and crocus show
its colour,
and into bloom
the essence to form,
and shadow into substance
Plato's cave all lit.
Like forgiving,
a letting go,
and out of death's chamber
into life.
On easter Dawn.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to glow, then grows anew.
Through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions cue -
from phases past fair phrases spin
through threads which more threads brew.
Thus in and out and round about
rhyme climbs as curlicue
expands ideas, wins interest in
both content, form, will woo
the readers who fresh insights scout
both options chosen, those fates glue,
into life's sins, its losses, wins,
would revelation view.
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0778 written 30 March 2005 revised 20070619 and 20081112 for previous version see below
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
© Jonathan Robin – written 30 March 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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