Salt water swells over a filling eye
everytime I see a spider die.
God once spoke and called them holy,
feels sometimes like God only told me...
Speaking silky words never heard,
grounded octopusses spin the earth.
Silent pluckers of reality's strings,
unknown angels operating secret schemes.
Warm kind things they are within
as their treasured bodies stroke my skin.
A touch of healing's holy grace
freely dances onto my face.
The love exchange knows no pace,
imagine nirvana, a sacred space..
Spiders are heaven's watchers,
summoned from a holy deal,
asked to help us face our fears.
Sent to teach us how to feel..