Spider poem

I have some sort of terrible flu-ish disease, so I'm afraid this post won't be super long! In fact, this post might just be a poem of the week. I hope you will forgive me. The poem is at least by Walt Whitman, and it's been fairly amusing this week to watch BYU undergrads try to talk their way around his flamboyant homosexuality obvious in so many of his poems. This poem is one of my favorites, and a good reminder that we're all together in our alone-ness, and that fate and our own actions work together to refine our characters. Have a good, healthy week, everyone.

A Noiseless Patient Spider

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.