The night sets in as the clock sneaks past the midnight hour. Is the sun set or beginning to rise?
I lay with head back in thought of all who amble along their way passing by each other like moths fluttering on the edges of a web.
I know so much of how it is irrelevant whether you are in the centre or on the edge of the web – eventually you will become the hunted one…and eventually you will be consumed.
As each to their corner we pass by the time with a nod and a flutter – not knowing the reality of what exists outside the spiralling platform we dwell on, but knowing and understanding the familiar. The current that blows the fine threads that bind us to our fate and mesh us into each others vision…all so simple and scientifically strategic. All functioning as it should – and we do not know by what name to call the one who shakes on the other side of the gossamer – it matters not – we know by the vibrations we feel pulsating through along the spiral towards us.