Bouncing around the light, space bends and beckons toward a dark end with wings become singed. She flew in through the hallway; circled twice around the room. A strange fear did set in, and she darted to the wall. Through eyes upon her wings, she surveyed her locale, abdomen pressed close to stone, leaving dusty marks not seen. Through eyes upon her wings, she watched as another entered: a fly possessed of purpose, unfolding space toward the light. From her mark upon the wall, her wings did see a spark: the fly cascaded downward in a slight pillar of ash. The moth clung tighter to her mark and closed her eyes, averted her gaze from the center: the irresistible gravity of the spider in the light.
Published as lyrics for Matt Rosin and the Dead Raven Choir’s Fire Mouth collaborative LP.