An untidy tangle of lifeless limbs;
eight gangly legs
entwined in a futile, convulsive,
supplication to Life
and Death.
The dead spider swings gently
in the sluggish summer breeze.
In death,
a prisoner of its own web of
gossamer deceit.
Suspended,
like Trishanku,
between heaven
and earth.
Condemned to an eternal vigil
of Salvation.
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