On the Precipice

I wrote this poem after I helped a spider off my window.

He sits on a window, waiting
For the fly to fill his stomach.
Behind him, a
Shadow, looming, watches
Him.

The shadow closes in, darkness
Falls over the world. The
Spider moves toward the light.
His heart is racing, but
The light is close.
He reaches the top of the window.
A shadow comes from above, swallowing
Him before he can stop.

Darkness closes him in, the
Entire world shakes. This
Is the end, he
Thinks. Then,
He sees the light again. Everything
Is new, everything
Is different, he
Recognizes nothing. But,
The world is still, so,
With some hesitation, the
Spider creeps forward, feeling
With his legs, the
Edge of the precipice, the
Pit, and
Climbs into the light.