From where I sit, above the earth,
I see the way the threads weave through
the tapestry; each knot and stitch
is planted with a plan in view.
When down below, my eyes don’t sense
the way the Artist plots and schemes;
the colours clash, the pattern fights
against itself in rowdy seams.
But if I lift my gaze aloft,
appraise the whole from ladder height,
my heart is thrilled to see the plan
that weaves me in, with threads of light.