my hands soar over water
across islands
born and unborn
from and back to the black horizon
i lay crystalline lace
over magma
mossy visages of rock
living mortals
and their ruined gods
do i tire?
there is no leaving the loom
while there is light in this day
there is light in my eyes
unblinking seeking sewing
the invisible pattern
i make, unmake, and am made

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