The Weaver’s Internal Knot

Upon swooping threads
In a colored landscape, snarled and frayed
Lone tightrope walkers quiver at the presence of a fuzzy bump.
Stuck in unraveling the knots,
Only to rebind them, even tighter
Only to finally see that knots
joined high, and piled up
Wait softly to press against them
To welcome them back into their web
Wait for the fall
Into their close embrace
Into the fresh canvas of their beginning..