Know a Weaver

There’s always one in every corner.

In the shadowed corners of the human soul,

There lie the weavers of stories untold.

Their tongues are silver, their words a snare,

They spin false yarns to make hearts aware—

Aware of pain that was never real,

Of wounds uncut, of scars they conceal.

They speak of trials that fate did not send,

Of sorrows imagined, to draw and bend

The listener’s heart, the sympathizer’s tear,

A fraudulent saga crafted to endear.

But why, oh why, do they weave such lies?

What compels the untruths they disguise?

Perhaps it’s the ache of being unseen,

The hunger for love where none has been.

A thirst for power, control of the room,

Or the need to escape their internal gloom.

Yet, in their weaving, they fail to see,

The cracks that widen, the fragile debris.

For lies are webs, and webs do fray,

Unraveled by truth in the light of day.

The hearts they capture, the trust they gain,

Will scatter like leaves in the autumn rain.

When truth emerges, and masks are shed,

The storytellers find their own hearts bled.

They do not know how sharp words can be,

A blade that cuts both them and the deceived.

For every untruth a debt is made,

And every tale told a price is paid.

When the cost comes due, they’ll stand alone,

Forsaken by the trust they’d known.

Oh, how they crave an audience’s eyes,

But fleeting applause is the sound of lies.

When listeners learn the truth they’ve denied,

The storyteller’s flame is quelled by pride.

So stop, dear weaver, while there’s still time,

Before your stories are counted as crimes.

The warmth you seek cannot be won,

By strings of lies spun under the sun.

For trust is a gift, not a thing to feign,

And betrayal leaves an enduring stain.

But love, oh love, is a force divine,

It blooms in hearts where truth aligns.

No need for guile, no need for art,

It thrives in the purest, most honest heart.

Love asks for courage, not tales untrue,

It flourishes best when it starts with you.

Speak from the soul, let your essence show,

And watch how deeply true love will grow.

For lies may glitter, temporarily

but love gleams endlessly,

A steadfast light, not a fleeting dream.

Instead, sow truth where your tales once grew,

Let the light of honesty guide you through.

It takes no lie to earn love’s grace,

To find acceptance, to take your place.

Lift your head and speak with care,

No need for shadows where light can share.

For truth is a mirror, clean and bright,

And only in it will you sleep at night.

Oh Weaver. Oh Weaver.

My heart goes out to you and all your weavings

For you entangle yourself in the yarns and drag others into your web.

Oh exhale out the father wounds

And inhale the Father’s breath

Embrace His love.

My heart goes out to you, oh Weaver.

I pray for you today and always

For your healing is certain

And your deliverance is sure

For you’ll never need to weave those tales ever again.