Silver-Spun Cells

frostedbranchdetail

Silver-spun cells of gossamer thought,

threaded on breeze-blossoms, skilfully wrought;

whispers of whirlwind,  fairy-frost food,

share your sweet secret – how do you stay glued?

Delicate membranes with hearts on your sleeve,

barely there brainstorm, a brittle-crisp weave –

filmy exquisite, in raiment of lace,

what holds you together while running your race?

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How ironic that such beauty is to be found in the weak places…can it be that we, in our humanity, in our very fragility, are beautiful?