a porous net of insect wings
suspended corners
hanging middle
through it flows a liquid,
viscous and bright red.
this is the life-blood,
the energy of existence
and of presence.
it would be a thick flow,
an uninterrupted column
but for the diaphanous net.
life-force is caught and held,
pooled on the delicate wings
of gossamer fantasy.
it's only impeding your life,
let it go.
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