Graham Fowell Poems
|43.||Missing In Acton||3/12/2015|
I saw a fly trapped
In a long abandoned spider's web.
The web weaver moved on to better pickings
Or herself taken by a bird,
The predicament of the fly - ensnared in an untended trap,
Was to be doomed to a meaningless end,
A casualty of a gap in the natural order,
To struggle and die in vain
So I carefully liberated the fly
Who sat nearby for a while,
Washing his face,
Untangling his feet,
Sorting his wings out - then,
In the early morning June sunshine,
He flew off with a sort of Victory Roll,
Loop the ...
Robert Lenkiewicz was right.
Every single thing which life has come through,
Is a one off, unrepeatable, unique!
This is incredibly sad.
Because it means an absolute multitude
Has been denied a future by pure chance.
The future of all things.