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~ That Delicate Web ~

 

Delicate Web 1

Awakened, I was

The memory keen

A story of epic proportions

Just what had I seen?

From spirit to spirit

As conversations go

A web of intricate gossamer

Hidden agendas, doubt, and fear to show?

A winding path, a sparkling stream

Music and dance

What is left of that dance of Spring?

Within that web of gossamer thread

A pattern begins to show

Around a tightly built center

Spreading ever farther, weaving chaos and dread.

Of course creatures of the earth

Inhabit such as this

Some are victims, some awaiting death –

Some are creatures of habit, some waiting for breath.

Within the span of such a construction

Mice and men, as creatures go

Surround themselves with what they know

Or seem to know, and embrace desolation.

Of mice, they love the maze

Of men, they plod on their way

Forgetting the two of them

The price they will have to pay.

Of observation and fact

A deep romance

Perception often leads away

To the center of the maze.

OH! to comfort and joy

When in balance they live

To mark the days of aloneness

With the exchange of touch and roses!

When one can see, tho’ the other blind:

Can the moment in the maze

The thorn of the Rose

Be understood in kind?

And if a web be built with intention

What, pray tell, is the source of it

This intricate construction

Or obsession be?

Five nights in morning twilight

Did this vision come to me

Wrapped in lacy silk, fingers in her hair

A smile…an emerald sea.

Behind that smile, that savory scent

Do lines of intricate fashion

Beckon forth to me –

Is it call, or is it command?

Is feeling pain, part of the maze

Or is this simply fantasy –

A delusion of the heart

A hollow rhapsody?

One would be remiss, if one more

Creature was left out

But one who mentions spiders

Is often looking in, standing on a distant shore.

One sees the beauty and chaos

Clear it seems to be

But closer one becomes to linen and gossamer

The sooner they are undone.

In waking moments like these

Magick is deep and rich

The air in eddying currents race

The memory of this fashion, itself a shadow and dream.

To mark one’s path, for the two

Not the One

Is to bridge this intricate thread

With weaving and retrieving; a work well done.

No one knows the spiders intentions

Perhaps not even Her

So long and dark, her fear has run

Alone in a web of great despair.

Can beauty and fear remain a’bed

Alongside the ever-present dread –

Of wanting to be tied and bound

A fire in her head?

With all these creatures, alive or dead

Surrounding the essence in her head

Tho’ she tries in vain to passionate embrace

The web is working in her bed (head?).

A fathers call, a lover song

A gentle hand upon her face

Reminds her of a better time –

If only the web, its gossamer line, decline!

A maze and web, continues unabated

Diversions and victims seem to set the pace

There is no confrontation or battle within the web

Only more and more, this delicate space.

Awakened I was, with Sun and silk

Of Autumn in her hair

A maze built for me

(Pain sets me free?)

In the twilight it fades, this sense of purpose and destiny.

The web is built without hands

Or so it daily seems

Yet every day, it grows and grows

Of mice and men, of creatures and intentions

(Or so the story goes…)

Tales like this, the ending often known

To move from maze and web

To be free once again

Is to set fire to our bed!

Who can really know such intricate and

Common cause

This unknown need, this race not run –

Who can tell…when the Web is done?

~ Finis ~

COPYRIGHT © 2013 FRANK L. DESILVA
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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