the point

A Noiseless Patient Spider
Walt Whitman

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.

I have long considered myself the spider in this poem even though I am rarely noiseless and often impatient. I’ve flung my gossamer threads, and you, you caught them. For that, I am eternally thankful. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to maintain the thread between us. I don’t have the time to build and maintain the web site and mass emails seem too intrusive, so this blog is my attempt to make sure ‘the ductile anchor holds.’ I miss you.