My needle pulls the thread of me,

Each day one stitch, one try.

I’ll weave a worthy tapestry,

No day will pass me by.

This sentiment, to have no lost days, comes from this mortal desire to count time as it passes- but count too closely and you might have words with the Mistress. I think the careful and intentional use of one’s days, is the only way to build something larger than your single day can accomplish. You are but one day of Yourself, in a long, continuous line of Yous. You perish this very evening when your head hits the pillow What else can you do with your single allotted day of life, than help the next You along, and thank the Yous that came before? Together, you might weave a tapestry that survives all of you. Certainly if you do not try you will not.

© Aimee Wood 2022