is the great multi colored, hand woven Tartan of time.
Swift is our needlework that passes through it,
Tethered by a tender thread.
For our stitches are made in memory's broad,
Multi colored delicate cloth.
Where one thread ends, the next only just begins.
Work done today and for all the tomorrow's,
Never will truly see an end.
Less, perhaps, in Imagination's great castled halls,
Where some foresee it finished,
And just hung on their wall.
Yet for most, they are just proud to have contributed,
Theyre single stitch or two in time.