Whatever it held of good or evil is now woven into the inevitable pattern of life. I cannot recall one unkind word, nor retrace one foolish step.
The tapestry is woven. I might look at the pattern and regret the threads of selfishness, the ravelings of hate, but I cannot remove them, for they are now a lasting part that holds together the weavings of today.
I may search for a thread of human kindness, may look for a touch of love and beauty to give color to my drab design, but if I did not weave them in my gleanings of today, I cannot add them.
Today has passed. But if tomorrow comes, it will offer me a clean and empty loom, and fresh strands of hope and faith.
Perhaps then I can weave a lovlier pattern, with less of the gray of care and the purple of pain, and more of the gold of truth, and the blue of trust, and the shimmering white of faith and purity.
Perchance I can throw open my mental blinds so that there may be reflected upon my loom more of sunshine of cheer and the hope of optimism. Perchance I can focus upon the beautiful instead of the ugly.
