Webs Woven

Whispering splintered tongue,

Shattering silence and peace.

Water flows to the rim,

Strength and force holds its place.

Another bittered whisper

And the water overflows,

Down the newly formed stream.

Free to fall,

To land with grace.

Free to leave a mark

And it’s presence known. 

Free to be

And not changed,

Molded into something new,

Something useful,


Anything but the starting piece.

Laid to rest where it wishes

And nothing said,

No moving spies.

Webs woven,

They never end.

What was the beginning?

What will be the end?

© Ro


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