All garments woven from a single thread <br />unseen seamstress's hands make cloaks <br />that are diaphanous in Your light <br />but lend an air of mystery, even fear <br />on darkened days and moonlit nights <br />when only shadows approach me near. <br /> <br />Your disguise only seems to beguile <br />as in a dream I sleep with You unseen <br />but as now I know to keep watch <br />and see those cloaken figures come and go <br />my sight still sticks to subtle thoughts <br />and transfixes reality onto shadows cast. <br /> <br />They need not go, nor sun need rise <br />to dispel the dream that I beheld <br />nor is a miracle at all what I must ask <br />just that I might awake and cease to grasp <br />the woven cloaks of dreams <br />and join that single golden thread <br />that makes so many seem to be.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/single-thread/
