by Kiara Oelkers

Eight weaving legs,

My past foe, but now eccentric.

Eight silky threads,

Movement so authentic, how magnetic!

Rays of sunshine

Dripping down on its weathered weaves.

It brews the wine

Blending our light, nurturing my belief.

This beauty of reaching beyond,

To philosophize nature’s bond,

To view your veins as lightning,

To ponder what your fear is inviting.

It’s power we all have inside,

To believe in what God provides,

To have eight fluent legs, or two,

To know the universe is within you.

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