My life’s breath

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Slowly I make my way

across vast plains of stone.

I share the benefit of shelter

in palaces I do not own.

 

Slowly I weave my silver chain –

String-of-pearls for no one’s neck.

Glassy baubles, not to adorn.

Lacy cards within my deck.

 

Beauty is my spider’s craft.

It gives me life’s breath.

Perhaps,Β not toΒ share therein,

I weaveΒ of love and death.

 

 

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