The strings lie there, waiting for fingers
to take them up and spill out patterns
of glorious rose, blue, and gold.
An emerald history; an azure future string
each plucked gently by the creator
in heaven’s sewing room.
Where bolt upon bolt of thread, stored up for stories
that have yet to be told
are waiting in the corners
not far from where God sits
and laughs while He weaves
because what He has made is good.
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