The Spider and I...A Poem



I watch the spider start to climb,

begin its journey from the floor,

stride up its hidden, silken strand,

and wonder where it finds the strength

to test high ceilings as before.


How like the many lives of man,

our struggles out of muck and mire

toward some end we know not of,

much too high, we yet climb higher.


How steep the climb, how wearying,

how unsure our grasp of anything.

We pause, we gasp, we twist in place,

we spin in endless time and space.


Will we rise or will we fall,

find death or ever blesse'd grace?

Then slowly pull our way again,

hand over hand until we gain...

what? Until we can climb no more?

Run out of rope, of silken twine?


Copyright by Don Gray


Don Gray Art  •  Poems