Upon the loom of life, a thread of gold,
Truth gleams unyielding, pure, a steady light,
Its edges sharp, its clarity so bold,
It cuts through shadows, banishing the night.

Yet silver winds beside, a gentler hue,
Grace bends where rigid truth might break apart,
A silken cord, forgiving, soft, and true,
It binds the wounds and soothes the aching heart.

Then crimson flows, a river deep and wide,
Mercy’s rich stain, where love and justice meet,
A thread of sacrifice, where wrath subsides,
Its tapestry of pardon made complete.

These strands entwine, a fragile, sacred art,
Three hues as one, to mend the human heart.