As if trapped in its own web,
The spider
is rigid as a rock,
And stiller
than a crocodile.
Is it alive?
Dead?
Does blood
flow through its veins?
Does it have
a beating heart?
What's it
waiting for?
It is deeper
than asleep.
More
near-death.
And from the
pomposity
Of the human
mind and kind,
The
spider's stillness
Can be taken
for death... or lazyness.
The spider
seems devoid of intent
And genetic
purpose.
It's been
there for days. Perhaps weeks.
It hasn't
moved a millimeter.
Yet
everything is in place -
And
according to nature.
There's
nothing wrong.
Nothing can
be wrong.
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