Appointed to the task by natural conviction,
Its limbs steady the fibres into a coherence,
Lines measured and locked, one to the other,
A test of strength, its readiness to build a centre.

Attuned to the couplings and connecters required,
The intersections are set, finding the framework suspended,
A vacant space bridged where the light is caught,
And blinks with a repeated pattern.

Acceptingly vulnerable, the silk tracks stagger in place,
An undiminished diligence pushing on into completion,
Until one web offers up the workings of another, 
How, spiralling outwards, we assemble about us what we know,

Or what is retrieved from the distortion; though stored tightly in their own
Intricate holdings, at crisis point we turn into the sections disturbed,
A frame by frame account losing its linear state, out here,
We are no longer certain how what we have made has been made.