Life's Spinning Wheel (Man in the Top Hat & Maid with Flaxen Hair)

Nearly one year, before the strike of the plague and the falling ashes, a bundle of yarn on the street corner was welded by white soft hands as a pair of eyes connected to every stitch and turn. The work created a pattern of life in the sky blue eyes. As the yarn spun around the spinning wheel, the sound of the winds intensified. The whistles of birds being followed and guarded by hawks had placed the man and the maid in a patch. 

The maid was short and her hair was flaxen. The golden tousles flowed upon her broad shoulders and the yarn was shaping every bend and curve of her laced tunic dress. A mantle wrung around her head concealing what was hiding in her face. Not even the man knew who she was. The spinning wheel began to creak.

The man had a black top hat and a white cloak bearing a gipon underneath. His trousers were black and the excess material of clothing bunched around his waist to hold in place his faults- and to hold back his regrets. The man pulled off his belt and his iron sword. Carving a slit around the buckle, he let loose while he requested the maid to stitch.

Slowly drifting towards the maid in the clear blue skies, the man in the top hat could no longer bear to speak. Her eyes wondered through his, reflecting the hazy sky and he handed her the belt. The belt was made of leather and lacing. Connecting the ripped belt, the maid sunk her head low, focusing on the yarn and the needle. The wheel spun endlessly looming and welding in circles. The man's eyes followed the connecting strings, and he was determined that the maid had traced the true meaning of life for him.

Once the lady finished she gave him the belt with the yarn sewn perfectly, stitch by stitch. The man pulled his hand towards the maid and a carriage rode behind him. Curious by the sounds of the hooves, he turned around to stop the chauffeur. The chauffeur was wearing a black cloak and a black top hat as well. The horses on the carriage were white and grey. The man felt a sudden hesitation which brought him bad vibes that curved and shook into his knees. 

Turning around to thank the lady for stitching his belt, an idea rung in his mind. The idea of inviting the maid to a baldaquin that evening was splendid at the moment. He turned around and his nerves shot to see a beggar. The belt was in his hand and the stitches were undone. A yarn and needle were in his other hand. Puzzled, the man looked at the beggar and asked, "What hath become of my way to life's connection and all unanswered questions?"

"Thy man with insight enough to admit his limitations comes neareth to perfection. Thy man with no will cometh afar from reality," The beggar replied in honesty.

The man in the top hat looked into the distant sky wondering where the maid had come from, and if she was even real. The only question had left him in confusion and agony of the loss of his life's control, as he wondered through pain of the poor man's eyes.