Spiders Were Lonely Flies

In the times before writers,

there weren't any flies, 

nor spiders, on earth, 

there existed only... The Flyers 

  

The Flyers flew, they knew no fear 

of death, they too, were born of air. 

They did not really care for rest, 

if only, but to catch their breath. 

Except one day, a lonesome Flyer, 

whose wings were just a tad bit tired,

stopped to rest, what happened next,

changed either's history forever. 

The very young Flyer had just begun 

took notice there were many things, 

of which, he'd likely never done 

before, thought about, or percieved. 

Suddenly, he was falling in love  

with Mother Earth, and all of her bugs, 

some of which he watched in awe, 

crawling slowly across Autumn's leaves.

Pollinating flowers along the gaily 

potted grounds, 

speaking to whatever nature's 

left laying all abound,

spending the days, maybe, 

playing with daisies 

became his dialy prayers 

whilst walking around.

Then one day 

he met a very strange being,

who hovered above him, 

saying many strange things,

saying, You yet walk when you aught 

be aloft, in the air

just what, may i ask, are you doing 

down here?

The Flyer who was lost 

but not at all scared

said, I wanted to stop flying, and live rightly, 

down here.

Certainly not, the celestial thought, 

although, it could oft be persuaded  

or posthumously talked into 

accepting souls as payment.

It pressured him. What was precious to them? 

Their wings were, without a question,

and when it knew this, then it grew jealous, 

and desired his, without exception.

The Flyer then asked for something in turn,

another two legs for his climber's concerns.

It also fashioned him a rope he could use

to catch in his traps new spectacular foods.

The Flyer, inspired by his wild transformation

took to the loom and of his own mad creation,

he looped and aligned, twisted and intwined,

and wove love into every silk section. 

but, when the being was gone, 

just The Flyers looked on,oh, 

how they hated his wish! 

and though 

they laughed at his labours 

and chanted he was dangerous 

they had no 

idea who the they were truly 

dealing with

The Flyer, true now to his spirit 

had chosen,

to modify his name for something 

more poisoned,

more maligned, and malicious, simply 

dripping with ichor,

he thought for a moment, then 

changed it to Spider.

He then caught all his brethren, 

and ate them for hours.

and those who had shunned him, 

screamed now for hours.

He made quite a scene of exhibiting 

his powers, 

for his horrible sleeping, he prefers his 

own flowers. 

And there we leave him to meet again 

our narrator,

who is glad you have read what ends 

hours later.

May you never trade your wings for pettiness, 

or revenge, 

unless it comes with flowers, for which to lay upon 

their heads.

Goodnight friends.