Poetry.

A swift and simple
Lesson, rarely taught,
Which is never truly learned.
An illusion, the encouraging image of
Yourself simply refuses to
See or believe.

There are several paths that may lead one
Here, as they ever so carefully (or not)
Enter into an agreement with the very center of their

Soul.  Truly, they seek only the false sense of
Protection they assume
It will bring in spades.  To
Deliver them not from
Evil but from the
Recurring, constantly tortuous

Nightmare that is the pain of an
Endlessly broken spirit, and heart.  A
Vacuum within the soul is better than an
Emotional flooding of the mind; its seas stormy with nary a
Raft in sight.

There comes a moment,
However, when even the web of promised protection’s
Entanglement cannot keep away.

F
or eventually therein spiders recall
Life is nothingness without the sustenance of the fly and
Yearning for that lost bounty, they tumble from the web, to die.

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