With tiny stitches like a quilt,
invisible to the naked eye
but infinite in number,
the net is woven

silently
it winds round you,
this unseen web of prayer;
a gossamer circle,
its strands shining and strong.

Spun
as with the quilt,
by many anonymous hands,
a gift of strangers

to buoy you.
lift you up
above the abyss
of pain and desolation.

Rest easy n your silken net:
You are not alone.