Blind Spiders
By David Caplan
Rise and be numbered, like the sheep
you are. Yes you blind mice going up the spout again,
Itsy-bitsy, blind spiders climbing back
for the warm comforting feeling of tickety-tock beneath your little clawed
feet.
Comfort in that, the passing of such,
Precious time.
The suffering it brings. The comfort it
brings.
But will you still climb the spout again
when the tickety-tock ends?
When Time is no more? Will you? Can you
imagine that, An end to Time?
Can you, can you really? Don't you think
that is what Heaven is? Don't you?
So why do you fear death, oh blind mice?
Why do you not just lay at the bottom
of the spout itsy-bitsy spider
and let the waters flush you away into
your blindness completely?
Because there you will find sight?
©2000
David Caplan
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