The Spider

Crawling across the sky,
On invisible thread,
Born of your body, given to the Earth,
S’that others may be dead,

Caught in your snare then left to sit for days,
Contemplating your fate,
Until you’re led into eternal sleep,
Would you have never fallen for the bait,

Of faith in your indestructabil’ty,
A flaw in most of us,
Else preoccupied with mortality,
A state most injur’ous.

Which will you be,
The spider or its meal?
Or perhaps you refuse to see that way,
Opting ‘stead for the free spirit ideal.