Single Thread Poem by David Taylor

All garments woven from a single thread
unseen seamstress's hands make cloaks
that are diaphanous in Your light
but lend an air of mystery, even fear
on darkened days and moonlit nights
when only shadows approach me near.

Your disguise only seems to beguile
as in a dream I sleep with You unseen
but as now I know to keep watch
and see those cloaken figures come and go
my sight still sticks to subtle thoughts
and transfixes reality onto shadows cast.

They need not go, nor sun need rise
to dispel the dream that I beheld
nor is a miracle at all what I must ask
just that I might awake and cease to grasp
the woven cloaks of dreams
and join that single golden thread
that makes so many seem to be.