You brought them together; two stranger a cloth
The seam defining their bond as it does in a troth

You resurrect and blow life into a scarecrow lying on the hay
You also crisscross through wool as if you’ve got something to say

The tip and the end sinuously writhing; vanish and miraculously appear
Be it the muslin or the worn blanket, you’ve sewn the front and have deftly done the rear

In swift hands you plough the fibers with easing scud
But an iota of neglect and you unsparingly draw blood

Though a wonted thing you are and grace you may lack
When you are actually sought, you disappear in a stack

You pierce through the skin, some tattoo some make the doodle
A select few choose to go under the knife, others prefer the needle

Be it a slit, a cut or a gnash and all that may seem bizarre
You skillfully do your job gently leaving behind a scar

A thread firmly you carry and weave through the fabric of time
I have dwindled my eight but your stitch saved my nine

A rich man denied an entrance in the kingdom of heaven; so said the riddle
It is destiny that shall help the camel pass through the eye of the needle