yours is the invisible, so subtle
thread that is threaded with my threads
many in number and knotted
threading also my pains like beads
colourful, and as if they are pearls
of great value; hence you bend downto pick every single bead
that rolls down to escape your diligent
threading by my mind’s protests
and my heart’s constant cursingmy creator, owner of all beads;
rescue me now with your thread
lifting me high into your vehicle
from this pit of bitter cold and cobrasthat sting me constantly to kill
or, cover my pit to choke my voice
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