spider

you walk down the path in your mind, Dirt etched in the bottom of your feet, pressing smooth footstep into the cold ground beneath you. The moon is an Orb above you, shining down her beautiful smile, engulfing, bathing you in her light. The earth is a faerie land, crafted form thousands of years of woods. Trees twisting into one another, gnarled branches slowly creeping up to someday cover this already nearly dead path. the steep incline of the mountain side protects it from wind, years of moss and likens creeping up the wall. You can feel it in this place. Thousand of eyes watching you. The trees, The earth, The wind, The moon, the ants slowly walking the path, the spiders, spinning and spitting strands of web, Watching. they are all a part of each other and nothing goes unnoticed in this place. yet it is not an uncomfortable kind of watching, It's strangely calming that so many things are paying this much attention to you. You are at home here. You are welcome. Titania flits somewhere unseen, Painting leaves orange as she sees the north wind leaving his home, preparing to meet us. The fog settles. The stars twinkle. And you are forced to think of that little spider, so furiously spinning her web, how she spends so much time building it. She puts her own sweat into it, her heart into it. Only for it to be blown away by that strong gust of wind. Or kicked over by the feet of a boisterous crowd. But still, she spins for all to see, just so we can look upon nature's greatest miracle residing in our own back yard. Poor spider. and then, when the silver snow flakes descend to the earth, what is to become of her? Beautiful her, spending her whole life on such a whisper of achievement. You look up and put your head down, enjoying the chill of the earth. Close your eyes, feel your senses slowly slowly shifting into this dreamworld.