bonnie likes this poem

Sometimes I do so many things at once that I feel like I'm running toward emptiness.   I'd wonder if I'm truly THAT busy or am I running away from things?  I do feel lost and desperately trying to find myself sometimes.

A Noiseless Patient Spider by 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.