The Weaver of Shade and Light
By Al Konda
There are presences that do not need announcement.
No trumpet called him forward.
No sky split in his name.
No throne was offered.
He walked.
And the world, almost imperceptibly, adjusted.
The stars seemed less severe.
The grasses rose straighter from their dew.
Even the dark carried less accusation.
He did not conquer.
He did not instruct.
He did not insist.
He listened.
And in that listening, something ancient breathed again — not god, not ghost, but memory older than language.
When he faded, there was no farewell.
Only the quiet continuation of pattern.
Light and shade, still woven.
Night and morning, still turning.
And somewhere beneath our ordinary steps,
the loom continues its patient work.
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Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 16th: https://alkonda.com/2026/03/16/the-weaver-of-shade-and-light/
© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite