Gossamer Bridges Revisited

Building
weaving webwork
stringing lines that connect
impossible adhesions;
the weaver does her work
upon the wind, God knows what design,
what plan is taking shape.
Tireless weaving, a full year,
brought forth a bridge suspended in midair
but strong, a place to stand and weave more strands.

One weaves, two dance in weaving, more are caught
(but not for feeding)
we dance upon the wind, we are woven, we are weaving;

God knows what new design we are conceiving.

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About therevr

A human being, striving to become more so.

Posted on November 16, 2001, in Old, Poetry, Reflective. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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