It is later than you think
as you lay hiding your limbs
from the violence of sunlight
unknowing of the tireless fingers
that stitch together
the shroud of your remaking
your cracked toes and aching shoulders tilted
ever so slightly toward the
dirt at your feet
you alone the final barrier
to the end of your own contrivance
behind you, beside you
at the corner of your eye
at the edge of anticipation
looms the framing for your ultimate unveiling
the colours of your rebirth
weaved in and throughout
the needles of consciousness
and knotted three times
by tireless fingers
for the exhausted heart
reaching up to the sky
down into the earth
and all about you
your nascent glory
thankful for the gift of rain