The Web

The Web

Carefully drawn cords of silver drape through empty space

Clinging securely to the walls

Of Heaven’s broad expanse,

Delicate & beautiful as wisps of angels breath

Wisdom’s web glistens brightly, moonbeams for its threads.

Moments of awakening form foundations

Where intersecting thoughts conceive,

Giving birth to the web

Where spirit and substance meet.

True form evades attempts to glimpse,

“Keep spinning &you may see”

More is spun, is born, and rests

Yet more remains undone,

For Heaven’s holy, silken drape,

The form of truth divine,

Now but a web, more nothingness

Than substance of design.

Glowing; founded surely,

Nothingness remains

Waiting in audible silence

For more light to distil.

As pure or rough as light may be

Matters very little,

Though light it is, cords & threads,

Now is just a bug.

The keeper of this web, you see,

Must make it what it is.

Refining matter, exposing light,

To weave into his web.

Thread by thread a cloth appears,

Less nothing than before,

Brighter & stronger than the web

Derived from eternal form.

Now shining forth as the Sun,

Sublimity achieved,

The keeper’s eye beholds the gaze

Of Heavens Brilliant King.

Glorious, glorious, is the fountainhead

Of light & truth, of sight and sound,

God, I see thee now

The keeper’s art is beautiful,

Its origin: himself,

A tapestry of light is formed

Sired by beings of light.

As refining occurred, & Truth exposed

The keeper breathed it in,

In image of the Holy One

He now is formed to be.

Though beautiful the tapestry

Much more it’s designer,

Made equal to the task at hand

Endowed to work as God.