A spider spins her web.
Not silk but blood,
Forth flow
And form those fatal threads.
She sits at the hub,
Swathed in black learner’s light.
Beneath, the student enlightened,
There cracks the milk-glassed temple’s dome
Along those cracks--- the rifts, rifts,
Flows the blood
I rub my eyes…
I see---
My tears,
Flowing
My dreams,
Glowing
My waking,
Fading…
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