Cobwebs In My Mind: Part II
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THE SPINNER
The Spinner spins his tales for me,
While I sit by in reverie,
As he weaves his gossamer strands,
My pen reacts to his commands.
O'er the years I've tried to trace,
The form and contours of his face.
He leaves me then, bereft, alone,
I never know where he has gone,
I feel the void inside of me,
And so I've learned to let him be.
I question not the who or where,
I only know I need him there,
Spinning magic with his rhymes,
Lacing cobwebs in my mind.
Through the years the Spinners shown,
He can make his words my own.
'Tis his secrets that I find,
In the cobwebs of my mind.
And he gently gives me more,
Though in fantasy and lore,
Than I ever hoped to find,
In the corners of my mind.
Who is he, who writes through me?
Baring souls so casually?
As we write of joy and pain,
He renews me once again,
For it's love he tucks inside,
Woven cobwebs of my mind.
The Spinner leads a merry chase,
Thinking he can hide his face,
He tries to hide himself and then,
Reveals himself to me again.
Draping cobwebs in my mind,
Helping me to seek and find,
Words that solve the mysteries,
Of the things he feels and sees.
Though he shields his face from me,
Yet the whole of him I see,
For each gentle word and rhyme,
Paints a portrait in my mind.
And I feel the heart that he,
Spins into each rhapsody.