Web of Life

Balanced on its own will
Suspended like a thread,
Life tightropes in the dark,
Across the empty space below.
Threads are spun and broken
Like synapses of the brain;
Only the web’s whole remains,
As the spider spins away.
As it traps us in its scheme,
We never see it holding the strings —
Until the web tightens around us,
And we're spun back into a skein.

No comments:

Post a Comment