the moon bleeds
as the lady dreams,
and nothing is ever
as it first seems

a blackened disguise
hides dangerous eyes,
which speak only truths
tho mistaken for lies

a feeling of dread
as she's spinning the web,
binding the worlds
of the living and dead

touching and tasting
and tearing her soul,
thru fear lies freedom -
the way to be whole...

physical matter
and ephemeral ghosts,
dancing together
as boarder and host

whispers of longing,
merging as one -
the weaving deceases
and life is begun...