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Writer's pictureAishwarya Jayal

A spider and a honeybee

Updated: Aug 2, 2020

And you spun forth, another thread,

Another yarn for me to hang by,

Love, oh love,

Why did you have to lie?

Lie should be, you next to me,

Without distance,

With tenderness,

And intertwined embrace.

I prayed for us while you preyed on me,

A little spider hunting a little honeybee.

That flower, so delicate, so beautiful,

So sweet in its pheromones.

The unsuspecting honeybee rushes in,

Bit by bit, everyday.

The scent was so alluring,

It masked the flecks of grey.


Grey should be our souls, intertwined.

The good, the bad, the enduring black and the calming white.

Complimenting forces, to create a shade unique,

A shade of love only we could seek.


But the spider knows no color.

It knows only touch, taste and vibration.

It sensed the honeybee's approach,

And created a web, intricate.

So beautiful, like a sweet flower's veil,

And so the honeybee dove,

Anticipating union with a delicious mate.

Mate, is what you were to me.

My forever, transcending human concepts of time and space.

A lover, a partner, a companion,

Little could I comprehend the solitary Ace.


How intelligent is the spider, a master of camouflage.

The bee sought nectar, a life-force, a home.

The spider built its on top.

Day by day, stronger.

And just like that the bee was trapped.

Ah! Sweet homesickness.

Should be careful of where you build your home.


Home is what we were to one another.

Each smile a story, each hug a blanket of passion.

It grew everyday with more love, so steady, so beautiful;

Blossoming into a memory mansion.


The first to fall were its wings,

But not before they frayed the spider's web clean.

Its afraid of the flower it once drew strength by.

Oh spider, you know not another way of life,

For survival is all you've seen.

It swoops in to strengthen the web,

While the wingless bee lets out a cry.


Cry should be you shouting - "STOP!"

While I make you laugh louder than thunder,

Stirring mirth deep into the cobwebs of your soul.


The spider revels, the bee squirms,

Death approaches.

The spider crawls, all eight eyes on the prey

Closer to it, past the ever so long day.

It reaches closer, leans in for a mouthful,

The bee, close to death, finally grasps it's life purpose.

With every ounce of life, it plunges the deadly sting into the unsuspecting spider.

Death claims them both.


Both is what we were.

Fused together, merged in mirth.

But I knew my life's purpose was more than us.

And my last gift to us, was rebirth.

Sooner or later the cobwebs will be wiped clean

But the nectar of the flower is everlasting.

As is the imprint of my sacrifice,

That brings forth peace.


Piece by piece, the world is rebuilt.

A safer, stronger, sturdier home.

The spider, the bee,

You and me,

Shall all live on,

Leaving behind our old selves,

Birthing into the immortal pursuit of prosperity.



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2 Comments


semits20
semits20
Apr 28, 2020

Beautifully written. Thoughts are intertwined in the usage of words. Really, it was very deep. Looking forward to more excerpts of your thoughts.

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sunandadgr
Apr 28, 2020

Brilliant !!!.loved ths one..so deep...looking forward to reading and njoying more of ur thoughts put to papar... 😘😘

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