Fabric wrapped on the bolt
Exposing only part of the pattern or dream
An edge of finish and tightness
An edge of salvage, they say, from what?
A thread is sprouting from the salvage
It is frayed it is free
What to do?
Cut it off. Roll it over and seam it down or
Grasp another fine golden thread and silver needle
The thread, hanging from the needle, awakens me
I cannot proceed without glasses, my true vision of what
is really happening at this moment
I darn, I create in this moment
Not covering up what has sprung from the fabric
but weaving it with more beauty in this moment.
Unrolling the bolt we see the same patterns
Repeated over and over
Yet with our glasses, our purer vision, we see small perceived imperfections
to weave into another more delicate, more unique and intricate patterns.
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