Spider Silk

Photo by Houcine Ncib on Unsplash

There’s nothing new under the sun.
They say
Life is cyclical—
spinning, relentless.
We hold tight,
barreling headlong into horrors past,
reliving lessons we know
in theory, in history—
now memory.

They come with disdain,
heavy, crude hands,
seeking clumsily
to fracture and unravel
the wisps of force
that their veil of greed
can only recognize as fragile.

But have you ever touched spider silk?
Lighter than breath,
softer than a whisper,
stronger than steel,
tougher than Kevlar.

It cannot be farmed,
harvested, subdued—
its weavers guard it with hunger,
territorial, cannibalistic,
uncompromising.

Warriors are never prey