Flies in a Web
We say the tool has no power
while it rests in our hands,
quiet, obedient, waiting.
But the fly also enters the web
with wings intact,
believing motion still belongs to it.
Thread by thread,
The rules appear
where to move,
when to pause,
which struggles only tighten the silk.
The spider does not command.
It designs.
And so we learn its logic
without being asked,
thinking adaptation is freedom,
thinking survival is a choice.
We still move.
We still choose.
But only along the lines
that were never meant to be ours.
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