The spinstress
Soaring through the air
Leaving her trail of silk
Crafting her web of intricate beauty
A masterpiece of nature.
She spends an hour to complete
The fragile orb of wonder.
Only for it to be demolished
In a instant
By the clumsy motion of a passing jogger
The fall of the morning rain
An innocent breeze.
And so she begins again.
With the same grace and fervor
To repair what is lost.
Another hour of labor,
To be once again destroyed
By a swiftly falling branch.
We pity the fate of the spinstress
The sisyphean existence of this creature
To spin and spin
Only to be sabotaged again and again.
Yet we are met with the same fate.
Spinning our own webs each day
Of dreams, of plans,
Schedules and timelines,
Hopes and aspirations,
Futures and visions.
Only for them to be swept away
In an instant
By a twist of fate,
An unexpected tragedy,
A global disaster.
The universe swats our webs away
As nonchalantly as the passing jogger
Brushing away the remains in disgust.
But we always begin again.
Rebuilding the hopes
The plans
The dreams
With the same innocence
And determination.
Just as the spinstress always begins again,
So will we.
Even as fate
And time
And reality,
Demolish our webs with ease.
We are destined always
To begin again.

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