-- Needle and Thread --

by John Herlihy

We ask but a simple question: what came first?

The sharpest needle or the thinnest of threads.

How we seek knowledge to quench our thirst,

Emotions mounting, of sorrow, miseries, dreads.

The eye of the needle, the length of the thread,

The eye with its vision, the length with its goal.

The journey of a life into destiny’s fabric spread,

Twin brothers working together as a single soul.

The needle an instrument forging a work of art,

The thread spinning webs into a thing of beauty.

Working in unison, may they never break apart,

Needles weave threads into a maze of mystery.

So it comes about that the needle stands alone,

A frail sliver at best and so easily to be broken.

Lodged in a pin cushion like a king on a throne,

So ready to work, a noble purpose to betoken.

The needle can hold but a single fragile thread,

That finds its way through the needle’s eye.

A wispy, little, foolish thing with a bushy head,

Trying to pass thru a gate unwilling to comply.

The thread makes its way like a sinuous snake,

Ready to secure a fabric with colorful weave.

Threads into strands a binding rope to create,

As truths threaded with lies serve to deceive.

Ply the needle and thread thru a canvas cloth,

Determined the needle with the thread as tail.

Akin to flickering candles to attract the moth,

Weaving threads into the fabric of a ship’s sail.

And so what began as a breath becomes a wind,

The thinnest of threads forged a thing of power.

Forces come into play that no one can rescind,

Lest that minutes can reduce the passing hour.

In this way, a needle turns into a sharp tongue,

With the thread of rumor to spread with ease.

A mighty sail from the mast of a schooner hung,

To carry its innuendo on the breath of a breeze.

Truth small enough to pass thru the needle’s eye;

The eye never big enough to accommodate a lie.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Tuesday 24 October 2023