Some are born manic spiders

Spinning chaos strung between rocks

Unyielding when life blows

destroy safety nets

of productivity and reward

terrified of being abandoned

under stress and dis-ease

strangled by expectations

to exist within a coma

unless sentence strings are cut

Some are borne into remembering

Webbed through supple blades of grass

Resilient when adverse squalls  

Stretch silk upon the ground

Without need of adoration

Embracing solitude

In harmony with motion

Buoyed by humility

To heal and thrive

on the axis of sentience