Friday, February 24, 2012

The Spider

The strongest, subtlest one on earth lay limp
On my door knob outspreading all its limb
I gently lifted the deft creature
And let it float down into its bed nature
It rises anew to spin fresh gossamer
Have its fun trapping, what a fine weaver !
My Mother, sweet spider, spins Maya web
Has Her joy to trap and strike us down numb
Dare one struggle, she lets her fly away
She devours them all who in fine bed stay
She goes on playing with them till they gain strength
And break free from the net at some rebirth
Web and we victims all, born off Her womb
Fight hard, shell wink us out of this sticky comb

Dead on my door knob
Tireless gossamer weaver
Big Comrade beckons

29/5/2002

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