Ethereal threads bind us fast,
That grow ever stronger,
The more we become aware,
They, in truth, are there.
We are all connected,
Of that there is no doubt,
Between the mill, the wheel and spin,
Where do I end, and you begin?
Nor in mere coincidence,
Is our pattern shaped,
The weaver plies a skilful craft,
Perfection without draft
Life is but a flying shuttle,
We are eternal weft,
The colours, shades, textures, hues,
To us the choice is left.
We are drawn in this fine weave
In rightful place will be,
But never doubt that we are one
The weaver, loom, and we.
Copyright Pierre Nunns
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