I observe the arachnid placed stealthily
between the partition of my window.
I look intently behind the safety of glass,
at this eight legged creature.
Open the window,
It inches swiftly away at the base of its web.
With no intent to join me
inside the warm house.
I decide absent mindedly
that I will reward it for its' contentment.
I shall let it live.
In this moment I feel god like.
And monumental.
As if i've said the key words
to a century old riddle.
Maybe this is how god operates.
He rewards the boring with life.
However...
The second we want more,
the instant we taste desire on our tongues,
he rains his wrath upon us:
In death, sickness and tragedy.
The more io ponder this theory,
the more it rings true.
How many times have I heard this story:
Where if the character
avoided a change soon to occur.
(In either love or adventure)
Perhaps they would still be alive.
Had that lonely man,
never met his lover. . .
Then his heart never would have broken.
His contentment could have compensated.
Where is the beauty in contentment?
Where are the trails unblazed?
Contentment is routine.
In mundane and ordinary things.
As humans we are progammed to aim
for extraordinary.
As our ultimate goal.
Me. I would much prefer the original story,
where the character dies,
but with desire tasted,
and new paths explored.
So I implore you dear spider,
]to travel across my partition.
Feel the warmth of my room
on your thin fiber weaved legs.
Then lastly feel the wrath of god.
Crash!
Spiders' Dead.