No plan is still a plan I'm sorry
It's baked in it's implicit
In life's relentless unraveling
Like you're not sure what
You're knitting you're just knitting
What's starting to look like a tent
Or a parachute while all you know
Is that it isn't finished yet
And you must keep on knitting
Your hands with a lightening of their own
Reaching back and forth to catch
A missed stitch or glance over
At the several patterns you're using
To get this shroud just right
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