Hiding From The Broom!

i walk the paths of stillness into the setting sun... in the company of dead poets, and a few mongrel dogs. we come to a clearing, and gather wood for a fire, waiting on the night spirits to join us. my hands are broken, they cling to nothing and no one. i see with my ears, and listen with my eyes. my soul rhymed by darkness dissolves into dust, while crickets chant eternity. i return to an empty house, curtains pulled, door flung open. lighting a candle, i sit on the floor, waiting for death, or morning. only then i notice the spider, candlelight tracing the web in the corner. and in this moment i knew, of such am i! a moment, a corner, my heart just a web... waiting on love, while hiding from the broom!