A spider web, invisibly interconnected,
Becomes visible only upon close examination
Or when the misting morning fog settles
On the strands
And makes it impossible to miss the tapestry
The design of life
Entirely, totally random
And yet not.
Two points connected by a thread
The vibrations picked up, transmitted
between the two.
There’s more than you can see,
there’s always more than you can see.
We all claw along our strings,
going this way or that.
side to side
“But, I have no control,” you say.
Just because you can’t see
doesn’t mean it’s not there.
Do a rope.
Hold a rope in your hands,
grasp it firmly and with all your might,
every last resource of your being,
use it to try and push yourself away.
The rope will flop, lifeless and limp, and you won’t move an inch,
no matter how hard you try.
Now, pull the rope to you.
Use all your strength, all your purpose,
and focus and bravado and charm.
One of two things will happen.
You’ll stay exactly where you are
pulling the rope to you,
piling it on the ground at your feet,
You’ll start moving, but only if
your rope is tied to something
Sometimes, you’ll start moving,
pulling yourself along the rope,
toward the end.
Sometimes, you’ll stay still,
pulling the end towards yourself.
And sometimes, you and the end,
will both move, inch by inch,
toward each other.
That’s how to do a rope.