The spider strings its silk
strong;
doubtedly
it struggles
as if caught in a down pour
of logical lies

it mates
it grows/waxes
it wanes
from spouts in pain
it doubts

it becomes a regal abomination
& for that it fears itself

its web of almost-lies/truths
in the society of flies
goes unnoticed/invisible
to their eyes
it dies
yet, only, still,
its demise in
flies’ minds
its clear web
remains un seen
& follows a theme

All that is Isn’t