From her depths she spits her silver cord
And binds her trap securely on close walls.
She waits like stone until a weight excites–
Until, enmeshed, a living struggle tugs;
And then she darts to mummify her catch,
To blend its foreign juice into her own.
A billion such as she lie vigilant
With nets across the sides of human minds.
If not a metaphor, but ‘they’ can spin as much as they want, they are really, immobile, and at the mercy of the stray, badly informed and of want to navigate! They perish if opportunities do not arise.