Chameleon Magazine

Long ago, there lived a master artisan whose loom was not of wood but of wind and light. Upon it, they began weaving a tapestry unlike any the world had ever known. Threads of silver became rivers, threads of green unfurled into forests, and threads of gold kindled into stars. Even the quiet soil and the hidden roots were spun with care, each strand humming with purpose.

The villagers would come and stand before the loom, marveling as colors deepened and patterns grew. But as the work neared its end, their awe turned to restlessness.

“Add more,” they urged. “More blossoms, more stars, more shine! Surely a greater beauty lies just one thread further.”

The artisan only smiled, hands steady at the loom. At last, they drew the final strand across the vast expanse, tying it gently as if sealing a secret. Then they stepped back, their work complete.

The villagers grew silent. For the first time they saw it whole. Not one river more, not one star less, was needed. The design they had clamored to improve was already beyond measure.

And so the artisan rested, knowing the work was not great because of its additions, but because it was finished.

“Completion is not when nothing more can be added, but when nothing more is needed.”