Alas it seems, it’s all for naught
A lifetime’s missions randomly sought
Dreaming of satisfaction at the end
On a mission of life that we did send
But many trails have nothing shown
Many tendrils scattered and grown
A ceaseless web of colliding strings
Seeking to grasp at those with wings
And many of us that only crawl
Seeking our names upon the wall
Avoiding the webbing, attending the dance
Falling prey to the spider’s smiling trance

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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