You created my inmost being; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I was woven together in the depths of the earth; from the first stitch your eyes saw my unformed body.  Before you completed that first row all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

You selected the yarn by colour, by weight, choosing the texture with utmost care. You picked out the ideal needles, counted the ***** of wool and with a smile settled down to cast on that first stitch.

Your fingers blurred into action as you chatted with family, confident of the pattern you yourself designed  -

With a knit and a pearl the stitches increased and decreased to ensure the desired shape, maintaining a consistent gauge stitch after stitch, row after row.

And after hours of knitting and chatting, with a satisfied sigh you cast off and held up the result of your handy work to the light for all to admire.

How precious you are to me. How I wonder at this body knitted together with such love and with such great skill.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully knitted.

Don't be defined
By what you don't want to be
For you were designed
To be more than you see.

Every design that you make has got a future
Planning makes everything possible
Hence it's always important to have intentions in place,
the right intentions with regards to everything that you do in present,
not only for the present,
but also with respect to future

Dubious: charge
The deluxe program in. Obtuse angled and oblong animals. Mecca sexúal, discoverer pulling back the curtain tails in mimicry and peacockiness as the horizon shimmers itself out. Do not eschew unwieldy ostentation towards benign mid-weight colors in the sequel to Blahnik.

Offers in the hesitant, peak winds of Southern-Hemispherical Antarctic weather barometer losses. The ice is like a hive of nameless blue lily pad vessels, each a different magical shade of the water's blue.

She like the uncommon baroque grandeur in an hour of time, herself-

Summons the immense symmetry of her elaborate lavender macramès sheath and entomb her skin, exploding across her body like milk-white daffodils draped upon a morning  bow. Linseed and anise encompasses burnt sweet grass on the breadth of pine in a gentle pillow, anchored only by the veins of her red fruit nectar stitched at the grooves in her cool and unpunctuated lips. While anxiety numbing tufts of gentle satins wisp all the worry and turmoil away, pleasing every nerve, sensor, instinct, and exercise of glib humanity intertwined amid the pulse of our uncensored adultness. She glides amid the arcs of ebullient-molecules ribboned in winter synonyms, summoned up in her sensual and illustrious sublime, and the story of how like a horizon muted by organzas falling beneath her into that relationship she carries with her water God into something profound, immense, and totally ******* exquisite, yet beyond all imagining, she is always doing what has been the coolest **** ever to me. That becomes more magnificently indescribable like our amorous fire, incentivizing the luminous beauty of new stars to rush above us, and yet under us too, amidst the simple and perfected automany she so awesomely imbues.

Until the minutes are silenced in our heads and the days are warm with you.

For Sarah