a precious cage.

I have spent my life
spooling behind me a silk thread,
tracing outlines
in a slow, spinning sway.

This thread has become an
infinitely intertwining web,
holding together everything
I have ever known,
or ever was,
or thought.

Some have become boughs which
hang above me,
laden with the weight
of repeated experience.
Others glint and sparkle,
still raw and newly formed.

I was proud,
to weave and thread
my time away,
safe in the faith
I was building something real.

Now I see
all I have created is a cocoon,
the delicate silk
a precious cage,
which holds me to my world.