The art of the spider is patience Its poison is held in reserve For when the web breaks unbidden Or if the prey works up the nerve To resist that which nature intended To swerve from the course of its fate The spider’s unseen strength Is the will to sit and silently wait
Everything was unfortunate About midway through the day The hope you had earlier Didn’t have the wherewithal to stay Whether by genetics and chemistry Or too many drinks the night before Your staring straight ahead Trying to corral your thoughts once more
Your mind jumps from one thing to another Anger, then guilt, then loss Then hunger, then thirst, then nothing Then your past actions and their costs You dwell on it for a while What you did to harm others Words you could have said different At a significant point or time What you did to harm you Were you ignorant to your potential? Were those chances your prime?
Yet . . .
Your considerations are not the now They are not even the past They are a recreation That will drift by and not last
It is difficult to see this As the memory fragments Circle your mind The brain is fastidious in its efforts To create boundaries and bind
The things you owe to yourself Are both significant and unclear They are not gained by rumination They do not grow closer with fear
There is value in a quiet moment With eyes facing toward the now Today might not represent your soul’s meaning But it might just lead to the creation of the how
Staring at machinescapes Fractal music in my head The inflammation of my spine Confirms for me I am not be dead A priori me In the wind, dust, and shadows A posteriori me Weighing and measuring my battles Knowing what I know Without knowing the reason The eerie absent answers Feel like my mind committing treason I accept the betrayal My consciousness shoulders on Knowing some framework exists Both before and after I am gone