Morning Meds 12 26 22
Dew drops on a spider’s web shimmering on the morning light.
Moments preserved in time to be visited again.
Drops of energy hanging on their eternal strands,
the concentric rings of recorded events.
Guarded by a giant spider, menacing but true of heart,
her sworn purpose to preserve the experiences we create.
To watch a new dew drop form, not from the top down,
but rising from the bottom upwards to attach its conical top.
Not formed from energy outside
but flowing from within by the thoughts we are living.
I meet this spider in the pursuit of a dream,
looking for the lady clothed in a grey mist.
She was standing just beyond the vail of physical form,
holding and offering me a small square box.
My footsteps echoed as I neared the vail, alone in a chamber of silence.
Stepping through the vail, she stood to my left a giant looking down.
and with her above my head a giant spider her fangs and eyes poised.
I stepped back, becoming aware that the floor and the vail were no more,
just a narrow balcony with no rails.
Only darkness behind, beyond, and below
and a spider as large as house.
She straddled the center of an intricate web permeating space,
with a network of shimmering dew drops dangled from its silver cords.
The light of lives or a moment preserved in time.
She spoke, “They are all yours, yours to explore, your continuing history to which you continually add.”
“Why the form of a spider?” I ask, “It frightened me.
You are big enough to eat me.”
She replies, “It is not the form that matters it is the energy beneath the form and the information it carries with it.
I best represent what you need to see.”
Standing on my solitary perch, I ask, “What do I need do?”
“Jump.” She replies.
The spider to me is Andrea, though names like forms don’t matter.
My personal sentinel suspended on strands of woven time.