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.