He survives a storm by skill,
holding on to his soft strings.
Spinning threads of hopes,
he spans a net all around.

Under tiny legs of uncertainty,
he weaves a neat intricate web.
A trap in silky sticky strings;
laid with aesthetic skills.

Many of his works torn cruelly,
dilapidated by feet of destiny.
Nevertheless, he stamped on the world,
by all eight feet, stretched to space.

Untiringly he logged on to time,
knitting his spiral trap in camera.
Finally, he created a wonder,
Showing King Solomon how to survive.

Now every creature is cob-webbed.
trapped in internet of illusory delusion,
Body and souls entangled in a net
gasping for breath from web cast.

by Satheesan Rangorath

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