The Way It Is
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
~ William Stafford ~
by the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea 
“What have you brought me?” she inquired.
Shahrazad reached out and placed a length of cloth into her mother’s hand. It was silk as fine and sheer as gossamer, the same color blue as the stones that lined the fountain. Shahrazad watched as Maju brushed her fingers across the surface of the cloth, and she felt the hair rise on her arms.
For she knew that woven into the cloth so finely that only the hands of the storyteller could discover it, there was a tale waiting to be told (Dokey 11).
—
Dokey, Cameron. 2002. The Storyteller’s Daughter.
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