Friday, November 29, 2013


There was a place of birthing,
beyond creation's lip,
where angels knitted quietly,
the shape of what is me.

In smiling clicks and sombre clacks,
time's needles gathered yarn,
and chose the place of holding;
brought forth a pattern firm.

I waited on the edge of life,
until the shape was cast,
and called me forth to beingness;
the thread of love held fast.

And in the deep forgetting,
they wrote upon heart’s palm,
the truth of my remembering;
the Soul's eternal plan. 


  1. cool opening stanza in this...the angels knitting you...
    i like the use of sound as well...
    the writing on the hearts palm the truth of your remembering...
    all really strong lines. nice.

  2. oh nice...i just love the image of the knitting much thoughtfulness in this... and the thread that runs through our it makes sense...even though we think it doesn't sometimes..

  3. The extended metaphor in this is just perfect.

  4. Really enjoyed this, just seems to unfold rather effortlessly a wonderful metaphor!

  5. This is so consistent the yearn is the red thread (!) through life.. some lovely sentences here too... very good..

  6. Very elegant writing expressing interesting spiritual concepts. Well done.