Life begins waiting. Then, attempts to move, to make. The spool rolls as the thread creates endless loops on the floor.
He picks up the runway spool and winds the thread. Sometimes gently. Sometimes painfully as knots untangle and purpose is restored.
Soon, it's time to begin. The Sewer threads His needle and starts to stitch.
At times the thread protests and the spool plunges to the floor. Though the thread unwinds, the Sewer never lets go. The end is always in His hand as waits for spinning to stop. The spool hits an obstacle. Momentum dies.
Needle in hand, He guides the thread in and out many patterns. Numerous threads intertwine for a time, only to be separated to color new corners.
Not one strand stands out. Not one sees the whole design. Each knows only the colors it glides by and the steady strength of the Sewer’s hand. He knows. He sees. The picture forms before His eyes and by His hands.