Rug metaphor

Rug metaphor

I am standing atop a rug
which is my own existence.
Each thread a moment,
a memory, an instance.
Tangents of corduroy
engender an optical illusion
which makes the rug look longer, wider

Squatting down low, I position my head
to that of a child's height
and the rug appears endless--
A sea of stitches which disappears
behind the curvature of the Earth

As my legs tire from my squatting position
I rise.
Returning to my normal height
where I can see the edges of the rug,
its plain corners just yards apart.
Nothing can't be seen.
There it is,
as it is, as it's been, as it shall be.
I can see the hard edges
where the fabric ends and gives way the the cool concrete.
But I stand in the middle where my bare feet are warm
trusting the threads which bear my weight.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/437c6q/the_hive_am_i/czg41qm

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/435o4e/old_friend_who_can_relate/czg3w5n