Threads. Crumbs. Rocks.
Standing in the darkness
reaching for something to hold, to grasp and touch.
Can a thread be a lifeline?
A crumb, a meal?
A rock, a source of safety and comfort?
Holding on by a thread, the smallest thread of hope.
Thin and fine, fragile as a spider’s web.
The tiniest thread waiting, hoping to be woven
into something strong and beautiful.
"saxon road spider" by lucy