I have searched the sky, narrowed my eyes to focus on glittery lights and found a silky web weaving its way down to the ground. I see people get caught it in, trip over it, and rip it to pieces by a long stride taking it with them to wherever they go, to wherever people go. And people keep going, but I have paused here gazing at this phenomena. It has captured a bit of my heart, and created quite a tragic notion in my lungs causing my breath to run ragged. I feel like I’ve been run over by an invisible force that creates those silky, gossamer webs. No one can see it, and if they do they dust it away, annoyed they grab it and fling it away. You know much about such things, always climbing towards the sky, dismayed when you fall out of reach. We all want the sky, and I suspect the sky wants us all, so it weaves its way down, hoping to grab a bit of us. The rain falls over the fingertips and can’t quite get the feeling, the snow piles up and then causes chaos, and the wind is too fickle to care. So the sky grows down, stealthy this sky, like a spider, and the sun dews its sparkles as a warning, here comes sky, here she comes down for god knows what.

You do as you do, and tell me with that grace of yours to do as I do. But oh, how I’m weary of trying to be good. I’m good for me, but oh they want something else and I can’t possible understand the manual thrown at me. Can I be good on my own ramus? Can I be as you are? Reaching towards the sky, as the sky sneakily snakes its gossamer tethers down hoping to know flesh. This thing that encapsulates, that holds things together, this flesh that surrounds me is not what surrounds you and yet you are, yet you become.

My love, if only I can be as I am, if only I can become whatever the soul expresses maybe living wouldn’t seem so much to bare. Maybe, just maybe pauses, the simple gazing of a sky wouldn’t feel like a momentary arrest before the panic and the insight of metal locks clinking shut.