To all sojourners of truth

this journey will test your limits

because most

don’t even want to look up

at the light

Climbing out of a deep dark well

where the bones are buried

under pounds of rotting sludge

is the curse of any spider

and the ascent to the summit is merciless

fraught with rain

and little boys who don’t like spiders

Shadows struggle with their own weakness

an inner cord

that trembles at the truth

taking them to the sunrise

where webs are spun in the morning

glistening with precious jewels

Who will compare one design to another?

Do critics know the cost of thread?

it came from within

each sinew of line

saving the life

on the other end

When people gaze at beauty

they don’t know where it came from

much was overcome

expressing something that could not be said

it’s not vanity

but the thing that keeps us going

our precious thread.


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