Worldwide Web Of Mind

The spider with which, with whom, I share the sunshine of these late summer days and the front garden – though in truth, the silver filigree denies me two-thirds of it, so broad the span of this ambitious engineer – the spider which or who has grown so large that its claws are some rapacious hawk in miniature, almost scary in their taloned, threatening curve, and which yesterday sat immobile in the centre of its web either sleeping, or awaiting, or perhaps both, is not there today; and I recall that yesterday it had a silvery bag attached to it, which now I guess could be some exquisite womb worn like a jewelled pride which needs no protection..the web’s undamaged so surely no marauding bird has pecked the spider from the undamaged centre of this web? Where has the spider chosen, for its special day, Its birthing place, its private ward – and does it have its huge emotions in miniature, its pride, its special love, around that tiny thing? There is no clue; the guy-ropes of its web are silent. Will I see it in the next few days teaching its baby all its circus tricks, abseil, swing, launch in the wind to far-off unknown lands? Or is it true that, having borne a little brood, this creature, so magniificent, gives its life to them, to c arry on the silken line? does it know that sacrifice it makes which is as noble as that of any man? and will its brood also carry in their blood a memory, inherited, that there, across the front garden, six feet from East to West, that silken line their mother made - their only inheritance from her, apart from life itself, awaits their darning needle? I inspect carefully the web, as one might inspect and read the menu for some blind lunching friend; amused a little, embarrassed a little, solemn a little, as the Creation’s relative dimensions shrink, expand, draw me into the web of universal mind; a filigree humility; a life not owned but shared.