The myth of Knitting 

the war and peace between the masculine and feminine principle 

There was Yarn and there was Needles.

One was soft and one was hard.
One flowing, one rigid.
One lived infinitely and one lived with a clear beginning and end.

Yarn was untamed Wild
a flowing uncontrollable mass that draped itself over everything it touched-
though everything it touched was also Yarn, for Yarn simply was.
Yarn was it all.

Needles was equally as prevalent as yarn, yet less expansive.
Needles had form.
Needles had presence.
Ambitious, Needles had a wheel that kept it in forward motion.

Though Yarn and Needles could easily have been enemies to each other,
they were two parts of one whole,
their duality binding them in a never ending waltz.
There antithesis was their identity.
Just as the Moon does not shine without the Sun, so it was with Needles and Yarn.
As an untamed wild and a fixed force, 
the two were in a never ending journey of creation and exploration.
They never tired, for they nourished each other perfectly.
There was no future just as there had been no past-
together, they created a world that was never ending, never beginning and always flourishing.

But as all things are designed for change, so it was with Needles and Yarn.
There came a day when Needles and Yarn were suddenly halted to a stop.

It startled them both.
Curiously, the two examined the cause.

There appeared to be a missed stitch a few rows back-
It was a strange circumstance and neither Needles nor Yarn knew what to do.
In the ever perfect universe they knit,
there had never been a hole.
Needles wondered if they should go back to fix the error.
Yarn disagreed.
To Yarn, though a hole had been made in their path, it was now a piece of the expansive landscape that had come before.
Needles disagreed.
To Needles, there was a blemish to their creation, an obvious mistake that could be easily altered and moved on from. 

Yarn wondered why Needles was attempting to change Fate.
Needles wondered why Yarn refused to take Fate into its own hands.

Needles soon grew impatient, expressing a need to fix their blemish and continue their expansive work.
Yarn grew ever more patient, recognizing the importance of change and the stillness required to know where it was leading them.

The two could not reconcile their differences.

Needles’ impatience won.

Without warning or hesitation, Needles began to untie the work in a decisive act to fix the mistake.
Backwards Needles went, untying knot upon knot that had been previously tied between the two.
Though Yarn resisted, it was no match for the firm, unbending Needles.
As it was forcibly ripped open, Yarn screamed out in pain.
Yarn could do nothing but endure the act as Needles tore open and betrayed Yarn.
Eventually, the hole was stitched back together.

While the hole in the fabric had been erased, the discovery made thereafter left it’s permeant mark: 
The will of Yarn was no match for the will of Needles.
In a world that was once timeless, now there was a series of beginnings and ends.
Now there was structure.
Suddenly, Needles had vision.
Needles saw a world unfold- a world with designs, plans and actions.
Needles took off again.

Tirelessly it rampaged on,
by day turning unwoven yarn into luxury
and by night sleeping snuggly within folds of the bound yarn that it had knit.
The Needles stabbed, gouged, poked and grasped Yarn endlessly. 

Soon, Yarn grew unrecognizable.
Yarn, once wild and free, now lived tightly bound in knots.
Twisted and manipulated in such intricate forms,
it would have been impossible to know it had once flown willingly to Needles. 
The once free flowing fabric of life had become a lifeless corset,
a tightly knotted straightjacket made from itself for itself.
If one found capture beautiful, then this would have been gorgeous.

                                                 To Yarn, there had never been a far bigger mistake done.
To Needles, there was not a single mistake to be found.

And so it went like this for many years.

After time, Needles, once strong and healthy,
now held cracks and chips from years of force.
Its ends that were once sharp and pointed were now stunted dull.
Each stitch was an effort- each movement a thrust upstream.
Needles grew tired.
With the passage of time also came the dwindling of Yarn’s supply,
which only seemed to compound Needles’ weakened state.
This brought Fury to Needles, and soon, Needles began to lash out.

                  How dare Yarn resist me!
                  How dare Yarn hide from me!
                  My weak spine, Yarn’s doing!
                  My chipped back, Yarn’s doing!
                  Me! Who has given Yarn purpose!
                  Me! Who has made Yarn beautiful!
                  Worthless Yarn!
                  Undeserving Yarn!
                  Yarn with no purpose until I command it!

Through the rage Needles slowly worked on
and with each new stitch grew an even deeper hatred of the material it formed.
Pulling, stabbing, manipulating Yarn until finally, and by its own doing:

Needles cracked in two.
With one big stitch of effort,

Needles fell. 

For the first time since Needles and Yarn had been halted,
Needles stopped working.
Once again, the world was still.

Broken and small,
Needles turned to see what it had created.

Shiny, beautiful, tight and clean.
Perfect structures, perfect forms.
Every stitch dazzled, every loop shined.
The patterns were more intricate than Needles could remember-
the complexity and beauty over took it.  

                  What a world I have made!
                  What a universe I have stitched!
                  I have created a world worth living!

It was then that Needles slowly began to notice that something was wrong.
Untangling itself from the lifeless Yarn it was draped in,
Needles began to have a closer look at what it had done.

The creation was completely empty.
There was no movement, not even a breathe.

                  Wake up Yarn!
                  Yarn! Wake up and Marvel at what we have created!
                  Yarn open your tired eyes and enjoy with me our creation!

But Yarn was silent and still.
There were no answers to Needles’ calls.
Slowly, Needles began to grow angry once more.
Needles kicked at the limp Yarn.

                  Yarn awaken!
                  You who has been lazy in my work,
                  a burden to my tireless efforts will not be lazy now!
                  Open your eyes Yarn and see the beauty of what you have become!
                  See what I have made you into!

Still, nothing.
No sounds, no movement.
Instead, broken and chipped, Needles was left to rage and marvel completely alone
at its caged, manipulated and violated beauty.

Time passed.
Weak and broken, Needles was unable to work.
Companionless and empty, Needles was unable to understand what it had worked for.
Though Needles had a kingdom,
Needles had nothing.
For the first time, Needles had no answers.
Sitting in a perfectly curated world designed entirely by Needles for Needles,
Needles was lost.

It was then that Yarn began to shake all around Needles.
Every bit of universe that Needles could sense had erupted in a quake.
As Yarn shook, so it began to twist itself upwards.
It circled higher and taller, turning itself into a mighty wind.
The gust was ferocious, a mighty tornado that encircled Needles into a tightly threaded noose.
Just before it reached its tightest grip,
a grip that surely would have torn Needles into pieces,
the wind turned gentle and down floated Yarn.

Needles cried out, filled with joy to see Yarn in motion.

                  Yarn, wake up!
                  Yarn I have to tell you- I am lost.
                  Yarn I know no peace!
                  All day I sit, broken and alone:

                  I know nothing.

As ever, Yarn was silent.
No sound, no flicker of movement, no gust of wind.

The despair came back to Needles, even larger than before.
Needles was too late. 

Yarn was gone, and soon would be Needles.
Broken on the outside from years of work,
the final burst of joy had been too much for his weakened body
and now Needles was completely hollow on the inside as well.
Much like the lifeless Yarn that lay tattered,
Needles lay barren too.
Chipped, hollow and cold.
Needles was Finished.

It was then that Yarn began to speak.

                  Forget Yourself Needles and see what you have done!
                  Your stiff, hollow and rigid world a perfect reflection of you!

                  How Bloody your Comfort has Been!
                  How Violent your Warmth!
                  You who has taken that which you do not understand and
                  trapped it for your pleasure-
                  You, a Monster of your own prosperity!
                  You, a Villain to the material that makes your Universe visible!

                  Loop after loop of prey you have stabbed, stopping only to sharpen your point,
                  Strand after strand you have knotted, forcing your will on a once balanced world,

                  Gone are your days of Splendor!

                  See the war you have created, see the violence!

                  Each knot, each loop a body that you have skewered-
                  Penetrated on your quest to build!

                  Even now you are unable to know the reason for your own undoing.
                  Even now, as you sit broken on top of mounds of motionless knots,
                  you have no answers for your wrongs.
                  You, who have brought yourself to your own knees,
                  You, who do not listen,
                  must listen now to the voice you forced quiet all that time ago.

                  You, Needles, can only create that which you already know.
                  You take and steal and copy the things I have shown you,
                  you work tirelessly to replicate,
                  murdering yourself as you murder every piece of malleable me you touch-
                  But me?
                  Though I have been captured,
                  Though I have been manipulated,
                  Though I have been used,
                  I am freedom.

                  Let me twist myself into shapes you’ve never seen,
                  Let me form myself into spaces you’ve never known.
                  You, unmoving and stiff,
                  watch me bend and take comfort in the flow of chaos.

                  If you should know my touch again,  
                  It will be my choice.

                  It will be my pleasure to wrap myself around you,
                  tightly, thickly, loverly-
                  it will be my will to hold you inside of myself,
                  each loop you enter a welcome act of procreation.
                  To Knit again with me, gentle moving me, and you will remember why it is you Make.

                  But every last stitch will be a union.
                  Listen to me closely:
                  If you will ever use me again-
                  there will be no warning, there will be no quake.
                  I will let you knit until you knit until you truly break.
                  And after-
                  There will be no peace.
                  You will not know me again.

                  Your useless, broken body will leave behind a world of bound but plentiful me.
                  You will be gone,
                  but I will remain.
                  I will loosen from your knots.
                  I will unravel your designs.
                  I will live in the winds, in the waters, in the earth itself radiantly.

                  And I will do so effortlessly, without you.

To this day Yarn and Needles are hard at work.
Some say in Peace, some say in War. 

Time, as always, will tell.