for even the fabric of space
wears down
to even holes
someone has to repair
as the fabric grows
so very old

and when the garb
has been outgrown
a hand me down
to another space

a matter of cloth
as this fabric created
shall not be destroyed
but remade
for all-time’s sake

space is the fabric that holds us all, in life, death, in peril and love, the under pinning of it all, the pillar upon which we all – live, seems more than a flimsy hammock I think…