This Web Is Weary
My dream catcher cries
with the intake of these fears.
This web is weary.
Expunging all this dead weight,
what a harsh burden to bare.
My friend wove a spell
translating to protection.
Solace in the dark.
Look at what hangs high above,
the gift of peaceful slumber.
Is desire enough?
Will we wake with folded hands?
This web is weary.
Darkness gets caught in the thread
mending what was unraveled.
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