In the stillness of the garage, I remember
The dance of death, the delicate balance
Of predator and prey, life and loss
As I brushed the corpses of flies
From the windows they mistook for freedom.
Their vibrant bodies, desperate and wild
Clung to the glass, their fluttering wings
A futile protest against the inevitability of fate
Until the spider emerged from its dank hole
Nervous and exposed, but driven by instinct
To claim its prey, to fill its sack with lifeblood.
As the world passed by outside, oblivious
I watched in horror and fascination
As the spider closed in on its victim
With a hungry determination, drawing blood
From the fly, now still and stranded
A speck of life clinging to the edge of existence.
I hurled the broom in an act of futile defiance
Facing the cold reality of nature’s cruel game
As the spider, dull with spider-anger,
Left its broken prey behind, limping away
A broken hero, a killer of necessity
Leaving nothing behind but the remnants of life.
I ran, with God’s anger chasing me
Back to the simple sunlight, a child once more
Left to wonder at the savagery of the world
At the dance of death, the web of life
Where predators and prey collide
In a never-ending cycle of love and loss. (\"Savage World\") by Courtney Weaver Jr.