Unscrambled me

Couple of months have passed since I last unscrambled the thread,
Hiding in the closet or rolling under the bed.
As I pondered upon my hanker to knit it someday,
The threads were all now clot and dead.

Deemed at last, the ends would never meet,
Thought of threads to have become obsolete.
Then I saw a peeping thread,
No matter it was black,
And I had hope, to find my way back.

It lead me to a road where all threads are back,
It was about time, all of them were freed,
Hook and a hand was all that they had lacked.

Unforeseen was what it knet.
Lost and found was how I felt,
As unscrambled was I left.