I picture you on the train
In the mornings.
All around you are bowed heads
And busy fingers
Forecasting their future
In shiny boxes.
I see you immersing yourself
Into your day
And it's as if you are falling
After a leap
Into a spider web
Of vast proportions.
Are you looking for God,
Hiding in a corner
And waiting for a meal?
It's relatively painless,
This moving through
Silken threads,
Some sticky from newness,
Some old and surrendering easily
To your slightest pressure.
If you get trapped
It's a welcomed rest
From the fall,
I can imagine.
Will you find me in there?
You'll find me only
As a shy neighbor
To God, but kinder,
And I will embrace you
Only lightly
With sticky arms,
Even as I know
You are only
Passing through
To your future.
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