Mind is the spider;
spinning, spinning, madly spinning.
Recreating the past; restless and poisonous.
A tapestry of turmoil.
Thoughts all connected with one unsubstantiated thread.
I lost my place in the center.
Terrified of heights,
I grip the edge, fearful of falling back down.
So desperate for a satisfying meal,
unable to get beyond the gasping fly.
Too self-absorbed to see the beauty of the whole web.
Be patient. Be still.
Web is an intricately woven Mandala; unique and purposeful.
A single silky strand crosses my forehead,
knocking me conscious.
Hitting me like Newton’s apple as I walk to awaken.
Spinning stops; I reconnect to Self and Source.
Using all eight legs to walk the path of the Eight Limbs,
I crawl back into now.