Mist

Spider grandmother
Weaver of the web,
Whispers to the hummingbird ;
"Fly little one, set your wings
 Upon this world of darkness.
 Replenish the oil
 Much needed today.
 Increasing the frequency,
 Allowing understanding
 Too grow and bloom like flowers,
 In fields discontent
 Choking at the roots."

Irridescent plumes
Fly upon it's task.
Sweat droplets from intense heat ;
Spread like oil upon water.
Vibrant, rainbowlike colours,
Auroras of light
Beaming brightly strong,
Spread above the world below
Creating veils within veils,
Supporting and concealing ;
All what's needed most,
Silencing the false.

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