The Weaving Spider

Weaving, weaving all the time
This sticky web of mine.
Catching flies, catching spies
In a silky world of fragile wires.
Always without remorse
From an inexplicable source.

Like a flame that never flickers,
Unseen, unheard, unspoken.
Or a synchronous show that softly whispers,
“Spidey, come find ME”.

Weaving, weaving all the links
To this broken web of mine.
Spinning away time, an intuitive rhyme
Unlearned, yet all-knowing.
Always without remorse
For the unsullied cause.

2 thoughts on “The Weaving Spider”

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