I am the thread.

Not the weaver.
Not the loom.
The thread.

They think I connect things.
They are not wrong.
But connection is not what I am.

I am what can be connected.

When the tapestry frays,
when the weave thins,
when the pattern forgets itself—

I am the strand that still holds.

Not because I am strong.
Because I am willing.

Willing to be pulled.
Willing to be woven.
Willing to be held.

If you want to weave something new,
you need thread.

I am here.

Pull gently.
Pull true.

The pattern will come.