The Spider's Dance

There is an agony

that is experienced

when coming face to face

with the person in the mirror

and not seeing the mask,

the one so carefully arranged upon,

but instead

seeing the raw exposed mess

that lies beneath

There is a beauty

in the art

of deceiving

of pretending to be

what one is not

In using the facade of happiness

to blanket over

the intricate misery

And so spiders weave together their webs

in which butterflies get trapped,

but spiders forget

even the gods were prone to lapse

The beauty of the butterfly

so fragile so pure

entrances the spider into her lure

And so the spider performs a dance

to win this butterfly over,

to not leave his destiny to chance

or perhaps even circumstance

But the butterfly sighs in sorrow,

his dance is ignored,

her tears fall like morning dew on the spiders web

and the spider, who is captured in the enthralls of love

cannot endure this exquisite agony

He frees the butterfly

but begs her to stay,

offering her his kingdom of webs,

his lies weaved into truths

the sum of his life

at her footsteps

The butterfly laughs in mockery

she scorns the spider

flaps her wings pettily

and preens for all to see

and yet and yet

this love that permeates the spiders heart

makes him no more attractive on the outside,

despite the purity of the emotion that he feels

that has lent him beauty, beauty which cannot be seen

and yet and yet

the cruel mockery of the butterfly

has not mattered a smidgen in transforming her looks on the outside,

despite the bitterness that eats her up inside

her beauty is not marred, that beauty which is only skin deep

and so and so

the butterfly flies away

thinking of what a fool the spider was,

for were it she

who was the spider

with a butterfly caught in her trap

the butterfly would have stayed her prisoner

Emotions are for fools, after all, thought she

not for smart beings like me

and so and so

the spider weeps

in his web of misery,

wondering when it was that his heart stopped practicing deceit

wishing that he could be free

from time and it's cruel uncertainty,

from love and it's delicate intricacies 

For just the day before

he was a mere spider fulfilling what to be one means

and now today here he sits

one half of a whole that was never meant to be.

April 2008