It's Still Life

16 of 27 (Aetherskein) – The Poem – (The Fragment from the Unseen Loom)

16 of 27 The Liturgy for Aetherskein
The Book of 27, Fragment: The Unseen Loom

I. The Thread
Not coincidence—a conspiracy of grace.
Aetherskein glints where you almost look,
where the light bends just so,
where the crow drops the same coin
in three cities,
in three lifetimes,
into three open palms.

II. The Colour Unnameable
Opal-smoke is the hue of “almost”—
of train whistles heard through fog,
of a stranger’s laugh rhyming with yours,
of the word you needed
staked in a different sentence.

You call it luck but the glyph calls it homework.

III. The Pattern
First time: it’s an accident.
Second time: joke.
Third time: kneel.

The universe is whispering to you.

IV. The Borrowed Cloak
Fate wears coincidence lightly —
a scarf loose at the throat,
a glove missing its mate,
a “sorry, haven’t we met?”
that lingers like incense
after the room empties.

V. The Unspooling
The ribbon-glyph tangles, yes—
but look closer:
every knot is a kiss,
every loop a vow,
every frayed end
a place where two timelines
almost touched.

VI. The Prophecy
“Three times I met you —”
once as a shadow,
once as a mirror,
once as the question
neither of us knew we were asking.

VII. The Recognition
That book page.
That stranger’s echo.
That wind singing.
They’re not signs—
they’re stitches.
You are the fabric.
The needle will come.

VIII. The Stake
Some threads come at a cost.
The ribbon is soft — but it pulls.
Each coincidence carries a price.
This is the stake we wager
for daring to name the pattern
before it finishes itself.

IX. The Revelation
Let the skein tangle.
Let the opal elude.
Let the crow collect what you drop.
When the pattern reveals itself.

You’ll know:
it was never about seeing clearly—
only about glimpsing sideways.

X. The Aftertaste
It’s the colour of a grin.
It’s peripheral vision,
and deja vu’s aftertaste.
It’s the way Felreil’s feathers
catch the light
just as you doubt him.