Waiting for a meeting to load 

With each new stick sewn  

A hobby grown from being alone 

There is comfort in the known 

Her tapestry lays out a story 

Were fires flaming and blazing

Only in stoves, no chaos at the polls  

Each stick is the same 

Perfectly laid, no colors frayed 

She is the G-d now, 

Not the one with plague 

That needs you to bow

And vow to wear a mask 

From now till who knows when  

Like the needle in and out 

The future is all laid out 

There is only one route 

No doubt that the worst is coming 

That the war drums are drumming 

Grandma’s heart will stop pumping

I don't know if I will be able

To be the Cain or Abel 

The Leah or Rachel 

Why is nothing stable 

I am tired of being the taft 

Stuck in my own bath 

That someone else drafted 

No, not her world 

where her plans and decisions

That come to fruition

Instead in G-d’s world 

Full of wishing and false predictions

I'm want to stay in my tapestry 

And be ‘her majesty’ 

With all my daft plans 

That will make G-d laugh

And as if my story was a calf 

Left behind by his on pack

My plans are ripped in half 

I see my vision unravel 

Like god when Eve ate the apple 

My castle of yarn tangled

And for this I am thankful    

I emerged to the world

With everything unfurled 

I can no longer hide in my stitches

Which is a switch im not used 

But the real world is real 

And I can actually feel emotions

Highs and lows 

As the world goes, and explodes  

Loaded with Covid 

Causing loathing and pain  

But it is real and not a 

Fancy fantasy tapestry of lies