Jonathan Platt Poems
A Spider's Web
Silk-thin silver strings woven cleverly into a lair,
An intricate entwining of divinest thread...
Like strands of magic worked upon the air,
The spider spins his enchanted web -
His home so eerily, spiraling spreads.
His gossamer so rigid, yet lighter than mist,
And like an eight-legged sorcerer - a wizard blest,
His lace, like a spell, he conjures and knits;
I witnessed such wild ingenuity wrought and finessed,
Watching the spider weave a dream from his web.
O' Time, who sleeps not,
By thy law, all things wither, and all must rot,
'Til life's bright flame burns no more;
Though die, thou cannot.
Second only to God...to Love, thou come before.