Alone on my perfect paths I sit
observe with clarity the multi-senses around me
wait for prey

Now the wind is my friend
stretching my paths
I watch them resonate
through one of my eyes
It's not yet time to move
sit silent and still

Restless not I
my enduring patience
hunger I feel, more
desire the freedom of
being triggered
to perfectly run
on my perfect paths.
This makes their blood chill

They flutter in my eye-grid
as I nimbly relocate,
seldom am I seen in my logical arrival.
If nothing has disturbed my paths
my work is already half done.
Trapped and tangled
menace alone can kill

All that remains is one sharp prick
finer than a spider's web
and that which once buzzed
and whet my appetite
I wrap in the finest of silk
for none visit me apart from
my perfect guests
entering my home along my perfect paths

Foul weak buzzing foolishness
albeit with sweet tasting juices
Ignorant careless wrecker of perfect paths
lie now still in your silken dinner-jacket

All that remains is one sharp prick
finer than a spider's web
and the buzzing one is gone.
To whet my appetite
I spin the finest of silk
for none visit me apart from
my perfect guests
entering my home along my perfect paths