house of web (834)

a sestina

I run past the house of web			
By the roadside it lies				
Among the leaves spun tight			
Its silk and threads are strong		
There’s one soul and a berry caught		
Yet no meal dead or life			

A run condense my life			
A spider on its web				
Only essence nothing caught			
Yet this too are lies				
An accumulation makes one strong		
A ship won’t sink that is tight			

My shoes feel tight				
These toes under pressure from life		
Of running, like diamond strong		
Yet these toes of my house are only web	
They too may crumble from all the lies	
A misstep only hurts if it isn’t caught		

So many things are caught			
And released, till living feels tight		
And fills the seams with lies			 
Where the berry, meal dead or life		
Where the spider, is it i? Where the web?	
If it exists, and i can’t see, is it strong?	

If it doesn’t exist, and i see, am i strong?	
Or am i weak because i am caught?		
Should i catch things in my web?		
And plug the holes till all is tight?		
Stitch fine web of silk till life			
Is such that they would say ‘here lies		

A house made of lies 				
That it made us think we are strong		
That we are spiders in this web of life’	
Or could it be that we are caught		
No light peeks through our house so tight	
How dense is a real spider’s web?		

Do things run tight make things strong?		
Can one recall a web with gaps? ‘Here lies 
A soul with no berry caught, only leaves for life’.