Threads

A poem

It began with bone
Polished, honed
to a point
From whichever source was available
It was prized for being robust, yet gracile
Stone eventually replaced it
Cords, or twine
Were used to bind
Until finer threads were spun
Or wool to weave, in colder climes
So in ancient times
The patterns unfolded
From the minds
Of thinkers primed
On mighty seats of power
Ancient ritual, ceded from cults of the sky
Whose gods were the stars
As above, so below they said
So they wove, with words first
When they were pressed to clay
With a different needle
And down through ages
Words became laws
Tightening the weave
Binding high and low
Civilization they called this
And it held, against storms both natural and man-made
Tempests of arrow and sword
Chariot and elephant
And the aims of tyrants
Empires rose and fell
Kings were born, and despots died
Learned scholars, wise and discerning
Saw the skein and warp of history
Issuing their warning, wont to worry
For their view was the long one
No matter the locus
Or the era
Does the template hold?
Where are the learned, with their caution?
Will we watch the thread unwind
Watch it come unbound
See civilization tumble down?
Should it be so, when you stand in the ashes
Don’t mourn
Grieve not, for what was
But look to take up your thread and needle
To bind what you can
of yourself and the world