The Woven Web

I lay propped upon my being, staring at this arachnid that so peacefully strung with such intricacy, its webs of infinite complexity. How they wove together, and with what beauty they shone, these strands of strength and subtle grace. Such a minute creation of paramount consequence to those who encountered it. 

Without fatigue, the spider moved at a perpetual pace. I watched and waited to see if it may falter, whether it would slow. He eventually did, but only upon the completion of his labors. His Eden was strung from wall to wall, in the upper most corner of this room that may be called my own. The spider lay still utterly, for he knew that it would soon pass.

A fly soon sprang from the depths of my floor and sped, crazed, for anywhere and nowhere at all. The foul fly flew  raving into the web. Immobile, it threw itself with untold strength at its bonds, a bull destroying a temple. Silken beauty was snapped and torn asunder, and the spider looked on with pity and sorrow.The spider slowly trudged over to the fly, and mercifully began its undoing. 

After an eternity in the throes of death, the fly eventually became still. The web hummed with the thrill of victory and the woes of devastation. The spider, who had backed up to allow the fly its final moments, turned and descended upon a strand. Down it went, to the window sill. There it stood, and out the window it stared with with more sight than I could hope to see. I like to think that he wanted to leave, to weave its web into the wind and let it take him to wherever fate would have him wander.

The spider turned around and his eyes gazed up at his web. He grabbed his strand, that had been left to lazily wave in the cool October breeze, and climbed laboriously back up to his perch. He took brief satisfaction in his prize, but ate slowly, as to honor the hard-fought dead. Then with the craft of a master, learned o'er the vastness of time, he went to work on his next creation, his next love, his next life.