A poem by
A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detatched, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres
to connect them.
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my
I just read this article where various career writers suggest that
don't read enough in the internet age. That our culture is becoming
shallow and snarky.
It got me thinking about how exhiliarating reading
to feel when I was younger, and all that mysterious grandeur of going to
Oh well. Enjoy my next post, "Ant-Man likes Ms. Marvel's