Random folded, flowing
with the looseness of falling
it’s a wave searching the beach,
clouds tumbling the sky,
or bleached Autumn leaves
settling on the ground.
Hand made, stitch by stitch,
with the finest of threads
and the paced patience
of a artist at work.
The blueprint might be common,
a pattern to work to,
but the dictates of tension
and attention
create individuality.
Formed in slow disclosure
like the secret of a womb,
growing unhurriedly
in the nurture of needle.
In the fullness of time
the revelation matures
a stitch at a time
a stitch in time.
The hand, holding the needle,
itself a stitch
in the tapestry of life
formed in the womb
of the Creator.
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