. Motionlessly, the spider waited. As always, she was patient and vigilant, but her outward serenity belied an inner tension, the instinctive tension of the watcher, the hunter. If her mind could have conceived of time in human terms, it may have told her that the time was four in the morning. As it was, the spider knew that the prevailing darkness indicated that it was not yet time for her to retire and rest. So she wait...
I O unceasing rain! You fill me with foreboding, As I lie awake All through the haunted hours That precede the golden dawn.II On the warm beach sand A spider’s trail meanders, A lone hunter’s path, Obscured by the summer breeze, Lost amidst the sighing dunes.III Pale chrysanthemum, Heavy with the autumn dew, For whom do you mourn? Will not the sun embrace you Come the promised break of dawn?IV A fallen willow Covered by t...
Weary the soul who for love searches Along the highways of the night. Pity the bird that strays and perches Among the crags devoid of light. Each night they wait for tranquil moments Beneath the stars who watch and know And when the winds relent and scatter I know not where it is they go. But always the winds renew their torments Upon the living and the dead; Howling, they rage, they claw and plunder Lost souls and fled...
