Silk-String Weave
The spider’s cobweb weave
Creates an inaudible sound
One heard only by insects
That abound
Like a magnet, the attraction
Is unseen
But once caught
It becomes a nightmarish dream
Vibration of a thing’s approach
Instils a fear
A flash of self-reproach
Fruitless struggle
A thought to resign
Life’s fleeting memory
Too short to define
The demon to this source
Follows its tactical course
With success in mind
A carcass to be left behind
To what do we despair?
To the death of one
Or the success
That seems unfair.
