Grandmother Spider

I seek your audience
I sit quiet upon your Web
and wait
The Sacred Silence
that sings upon the Fibers
wends its way through to my heart;
I feel your Touch
the whisper of your Thoughts
upon my eyes
I hear your Heart
- weeping -
the fading, dying strands of your Web
brushing across my hands...
"Heal them," I hear you say...
for in the farthest reaches...
a Shadowing...
a Gnashing of Darkness
tears at your Soul.
I am weeping, too.
"What can I do?"
"Heal me," She says.