Monday, March 2, 2009

How subtle a net do we weave
How swift our mind leads us on
Threads of thought twist and cleave
in fingers of words deftly con

How we tread with dreamy feet
Seeking roads that our desires take
How does the mind ooze deceit
the spider's mouth that web make

How we toil in empty sweat
Hours that run in joyless drone
How the heart does worry and fret
piling with filth its own throne

How we speak sans respite
shedding words that wither and die
Empty branches that take delight 
in eternal autumn always nigh