A black box inside my head
With corners, angles…mysteries I can’t bring to light alone.
Pests swarm: flies of discontent, gnats of distraction, beetles and wasps of adversity.
Descends the spider.
Out of the shadows, she soundlessly spins-
This is her time, her feast-
Silvered strands form patterns and shapes,
Encloak the encroachers,
Beautify the struggle.
When all is done, she surveys her work,
And with the most elegant bite to my heart
Brings a drop to her fangs- then retreats.
And I sing.
Cobwebs cleared, darkness again,
In the ineffable…