Spider's Web Poem by Christopher P. P. White

I am stuck in time like the poor fly
In a spider's web
Waiting to die.
Maybe minutes will move
When I fix the clock
With the hidden energy
Locked in the attic.

Procrastinating in the morning
And revolution
At night.
Maybe there is a way
Outside into the beauty
And the clarity of daylight.

When you finally figure it all out,
Don't leave me behind
To rot in the dark.
Tell me about the treasures
Of flight and carry me
Into the fold of man.