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My Failed Poem

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Life is like many things, as many have said before me
A ball, a fly, a Peregrine falcon and a rolling baby!
For me its something different; a weave on a creaking mill
Of infinitely many colorful threads,
Of never ending fractals and dancing tigers!
It creeps upon you, not one thread at a time but a multitude.
A pattern is born each moment
Not looking back, not looking forward but then and there,
Painted by drops of blood and softened by beads of sweat.
That is perhaps what we should do;
Stop for a moment : pause
And feel the infinite threads that are you move along,
Dance with ever forming patterns and don't look back.
P.S I kind of cheated but happy to write my first ever poem(If it stands scrutiny).
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