The size of a seed.
Light brown, left dangling by my blades.
Still alive, intact and struggling.
Finds a thread, a whisper of silk.
Thin thread of hope,
Sole source of rescue.
Slowly, steadily, spacewalking up and up as the sun shines.
The thread can barely be seen - is it there at all?
Spider knows, spider believes, has faith, has hope...
The thread is all there is.
And seeing this act of faith, determination and deliverance
In such a small creature,
I cease from my labours,
Caught in a moment of admiration and inspiration.
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