The Golden Tapestry


The Earth's moon crosses the window in a diagonal manner, its reflected light breaking through the slices of open spaces in the window shade. If I close one eye and look carefully, I can see it moving slowly across the sky.

A moon as bright as this one will wake me up from time to time, and I know I am not the only one awake. Nights like these can keep the critters busy in the forests and fields outside these cabin walls. 

I lift my smartphone to take a picture but the image is not nearly as beautiful as what my eyes see. The camera cannot record the stars, the detail of the moon, nor the subtle play of moonbeams that are keeping me awake right now. Finally I give up and return to sleep, to dream of moments both fantastical and tragic.

The early mornings, right before dawn and shortly there after, are really when I do my best work. All I need is an inspiration, a moment, a hook, or what I like to refer to as a thread. Once the thread is pulled through the needle that is my mind's eye, my fingers begin to sew the tapestry. A tapestry of tales develops that I couldn't have imagined just before I began and that can be as fantastical and tragic as my dreams can sometimes be.

About an hour in, sometimes two, I will stand up and walk around a bit. Perhaps I'll take a short walk outside to see where the critters have been during the night. One morning the clouds were lit up with a golden hue so brilliant I had to write about it, and unlike the image I had trouble taking during the night, I am very satisfied with this particular image I have taken of the golden clouds.

But photographs aren't really the point of being a writer. The point of being a writer is to transfer that image from your mind into the readers without the use of an external image. The point is to weave a tapestry so golden the reader can't help but want to be wrapped up in the thread. 

As the day passes and night falls once again, I wonder if the moon will wake me. If I am lucky enough, like a good story, it will rise and fall and I will continue to dream.