Spider

Walking into a corridor of neatly aligned cobwebs,
that have your history strewn across, like telephone wires
intertwining and intersecting,
Making all the conversations and voices interweave,
crossing paths - causing a disruption in the line,
the static disturbances echoing through the dark corridor
embellished with these cobwebs that have been lost in your mind.

The cobwebs speak like conversations
from broken telephone poles
that are overlapping and confusing the mind,  
muddled and disarrayed, lacking any sense.
time has consumed these thoughts,
leaving bits and pieces,
that only mislead you


You swing across paving new paths with silken threads,
crisp and new, like adhesive,
glistening with prosperity.
Yet you keep these deep rooted cobwebbed memories
locked in your mind,
like Pandora’s box ready to unravel.
So just let them retire,
they have fallen and become undone,
and now they just collect
dust from your memories
Reminding you of thoughts,
that are specked and flecked
with dusty recollections.

Those worn out thoughts can no longer collect,
they only eject,
tangled stories confusing you
and bemusing you
So don’t collect
your abandoned webs,
like a memory book - they are no longer relevant,
they were just webs you wove to learn
how to weave the web you now conceive,
strong and secure,
fully capable to endure.