The silken gift of Industry

The clear form of what was once life is now fluttering to it's source
No fear, storm or that which was once a stuttering falling to it's course
"I was to steer the journey of leaves to sleep; silk, flight then reproduction
An industry of the Mori I was once, like your clocks, fast food & consumption."

"An ancient warned us one day of cages; Fields of white & sorrow
That thousands of us would be scattered to give & give I say - not borrow!"
"Are you calling us thieves then, is that your 'communiqué'?"
"No, just lovers of silk, so much so that you even now have 'quality' critic"
"What's the purpose of your cocoon then if not just to grow?"
"We are the keepers of secrets and wisdom that no fool can know"

"At Night, the patience we give one flower to another is similar to the bee
Though we are no longer valued the same, we are captives to the ramp - not kept for honey - and of course; No longer take flight, not for love or money"
Though we are harmless too and can't attempt to free ourselves,
- our desitinies are certain
we still have our journey ahead of us, producing ever more than we ever did for the dress, sheet & curtain"

There are none of us now in soul I am the last, I share my story with you about your future having met our past.
We were once beautiful in flight - like snow falling
To dance in the air of love in honor of Gaia was our calling
You could free us from these wooden cells, but free we would not be
Our freedom was our dance and our festivity at early light
- 3 millenia BC