How can I too, hold a seemingly intangible design of something more in my tattered mind?
buffeted by the wind, how do I know where to strengthen my anchor points.
held poised in the absence - how to construct something new for myself in the blank space between?
I am tired of each line of my life being assumed stronger than the delicate thread that it feels it must be
but I must acknowledge that some part of me has held together all the same - clutching life lines like frayed ends
it is just that I don’t know where to count this a victory and where I have left to grieve...
What is it to spin silk from circles of despair?
teach me this truth
perhaps, somewhere deep down I know it too, some inborn sense to make a map of these dead ends.
At present I’m not so sure I can even recall how to keep from dissolving in the wind
what is it to adapt one’s same patterns to the changing of the seasons?
again and again (and again).
I want to know what the orb weavers know - perhaps what they simply don’t ask before doing
to have faith in the finest threat I hang by
an anchor, a lifeline, or a noose?
This is what I still don't know.
- S.
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