In Swaddling Cloths

None must live that none may die I here the darkling angels cry; and the legal spider’s social silk binds us for good, or some such ilk. Secure, protected and insured; to such, and formlessness, inured, we suffer sensitivity and bemoan our bland identity. But children, touching common sense, know life is an experience and slip between protective cracks to break the rules behind our backs and reaching out towards the light rough-and-tumble, love and fight. Yet still the blindling spider spins preserving us from all our sins by building us a hiding hole not wisely teaching self-control and ever gently through the years leads us away from pain and tears. Drawing the light out of our eyes ‘til we can not do otherwise but live bewildered and denied with loving eyes still open wide, that staring into darkness see - not truth, but endless fantasy.