Time spins a web
from the tree of life
and we are caught.
Blown like a feather
we cling
as our need
gives us strength.
We touch
the lazy leaf in awe,
smell the tangy edge
of fruited laughter
and long for truth.
Days are sometimes
our slow enemy.
The dullness of them
seeps into our lust
and inhibits our exuberance.
Many times a manic dance
spins us out of control,
before we can think of a purpose
we have passed ourselves
and must seek again
what we never found.
We are the umbilicated
tied to the past by a severed cord,
phantom pains
keep us from forgetting
our beginning.
We are chained to the future
by the microscope of eternity
found in our children.
We throw out a life line
and glean
through the unbearable
coupling of our bodies, destiny.
From the depth of
this beauty
we recognize youth
far back on the road.
The mirror mimics
our exterior
when inside we
realize that youth
has only become
less frivolous
and more kind.
There are signs along
the path we travel
these are some I’ve seen:
Singing when your heart
is full
brings sweetness to your
voice.
Holding the hand
of one
who walks along
the river
leads to the
appreciation of
little things.
Listening to the message
of the sea,
humbles
an overripe opinion.
Embracing in love
sets a fire
that will not
be extinguished.
Looking inward
for the teacher
calms the trembling
fingers
of your grasping
search.
Laughter emptying
into your
troubled soup
sweetens the bitterness
and strengthens
all the essential
ingredients.
To struggle
against the web
is to be caught
more fiercely.
If we are still
listening
and open,
we can appreciate
the glistening of its
craftsmanship
and the touch of air
surrounding it.
Peace is fleeting,
found in an instant
when eyelash meets
the cheek.
Does the tree
of life
concern itself
with our struggle?
Tall and sure
it holds the web,
but can it protect it
from what is
or what will be?
I still have not seen
the spider.
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