Dance of the Spider

She stands transfixed
before his lair
swaying with most
primal of rhythms.
Before her she sees within the
multifaceted eyes
reflections of her
inner self.
How has she come to this?
Caught in the gossamer
filaments of the words he
has spun;
A miasma of alternating
emotion and thought that
he has woven right from her
very thought and spirit.
Each strand penetrating her being.
He beckons, shifting ever so
slightly as her dance begins,
surefooted placement of each
step spiraling ever closer to his grasp.
The rhythm pounding within her mind
offering release in offering of herself.
Still he waits, patient and wanting
for he knows with the knowledge of
the ancients what has drawn her.
The dance of the spider.