Thursday, September 26, 2013

Till the Bridge You Will Need Be Form'd

..bookS ON THE BRidge.


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 launch’d forth filament, filament, filament out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, 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 anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

                                                                                          Walt Whitman


Spider photograph from
..bookS ON THE a series of articles on this site that will feature literature that includes bridges, actual or metaphorical.

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