Masters of the Universe
sit around a mile long table,
embroidering the tapestry with threads of gold.
They have been working
Since time was no time,
to the light of stars
before they ever shone.
It took so long to create the images,
the tapestry bigger and bigger..
We only ever see
one detail at a time.
We cannot ever
comprehend the whole picture,
and if we could, our minds would be lost.
It is a beauty, that tapestry,
but the edges are frayed
by time and wear.
Their hands are so fast,
and skilled.
We are hypnotized into
only looking at the work in progress,
never the edges.
Just how they want it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem