In the quiet hum of the world’s soft sigh,
A web is spun beneath the sky.
Threads of light, of earth, and air,
Woven with wisdom, rich and rare.
The spider weaves with careful grace,
Each strand a memory, each knot a place.
From dawn to dusk, the patterns grow,
In silent rhythm, they ebb and flow.
A leaf falls, kissed by wind’s embrace,
It lands in the web, a sacred space.
A drop of rain, a passing bee,
Each part of life, a harmony.
The river’s course, the mountain’s rise,
The secret dance of star-filled skies—
All threads connect in unseen ways,
Telling stories through endless days.
In every heartbeat, a rhythm finds,
The pulse of life, in the web it binds.
We are but strands, both strong and frail,
Part of a whole, where none prevail.
So live, and love, and give, and learn,
For the web of life will twist and turn.
With every choice, a thread is spun—
In the tapestry that’s never undone.
Thank-you reading.
Much Love and light.
Brenda Marie Fluharty
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