We spin out our webs, weaving a structure for others to cross between or after us, if they happen to chance upon them.
There must be tracks to span the spaces between worlds, between my world and yours and anyone else’s. How else can we reach?
When structures fail us, that’s when we fall. That’s when the homeless find themselves huddled on an uncaring street. That’s when the suicide grasps at the blade as if flailing for a line, because solid structure can’t be found; if it exists it’s unseen, unfelt, tragically unknown. The strand that was followed ends here, the trail fades out, drops off.
The tracks our lives leave are what matters. Our lives are short but the tracks we leave behind may support scores after us.
Without them our lives are written on the wind.
Image source :
http://www.flickr.com/photos/34439637@N08/3199422889/” title=”Construction by ook.com.sa, on Flickr”