often we are caught

the road to freedom


a soft web

encases around the whole

and as with quicksand

the more the struggle the tighter the grasp

the spider sits in the corner

the small entity rushes in to be trapped

surrounded and caught amongst

silken threads stronger than they look

belying their own delicacy

a torn kite

string hanging down out of reach

but flickering


indicating angry gusts

and the fabric of the toy is forever hooked up high on wires that buzz


as we are often caught

unaware of our predicament

until we try to wriggle and walk and step out



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