The Web

A web, is the self through time,

An infinity of the I

Stretching backwards, forwards,

Living, breathing,

Feeling,

Impatient for the moment of

The Present Conscious.

We all exist. In every moment,

Seperate in our mind,

That mind which is called Time,

But nonetheless a web, connected

By those spells beyond ourselves.

A scent, a taste, a moment’s quirk

Of light - the mist atop the autumn field,

The sting of frost, the summer promise,

Those songs of nostalgia;

The music we chance to hear

Recall us to the P...