My world is woven from a desire to create a reality.
Silken threads intertwine and twist in the moisture laden air,
all the while I wait and ponder the divinity I seek.
* * *
The darkness of the swamp engulfs and challenges this veracity.
Bottle green leaves and vines encircle my retreat,
drawing wisdom from the primordial ooze beneath my feet.
* * *
Patiently I crouch and wait, silent in my lair,
as gossamer strands of silken lace play upon her hair.
The dankness of the mire, the stillness of the day,
This I know is my actuality, my dominion I shall keep.
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