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Once there was a little fly who lived in the great Wood,
who loved to zip around so high, far higher than he should.
All his vermin kinsmen spent their time low to the ground
eating dung and laying eggs in dead things fat and round.
But fly was bored with groundling things and set his mind on love,
his small heart yearning for the lights that burned so bright above,
Where fresh and clean and clear and new the sky was pure and sweet,
so far above the smelly world of slugs and rotted meat.
So buzzed he here and there around to gain strength for his flight,
The stuff of legends was his planned emergence in the light.
Off he'd fly up in the sky to soar up higher and higher,
to think pure thoughts and try to find friend nature's ideal fire.
"Why should I, a gifted guy, resort to eating feces,
the world out there is far more fair than dreamt of by my species."
So off he went to see the world, so high and fast off flying,
never thinking once at all of danger or of dying.
Every night he'd buzz back to his beige bourgeois dung pile,
Where mother fly would serve him puss (in pearls and gracious smile).
Then every night she'd tuck him in with Drac (his wee pet flea),
And every night she'd offer him her worried mother's plea.
"Naive fly," she sighed "why do you fill my heart with griefs,
for stranger things are in the earth than dreamt in your beliefs.
Be careful, little fly of mine, you think you are so smart,
but there are stronger things out there than dwell inside your heart.
High up in those branches where you love to buzz around,
there lives an evil being who drinks blood with teeth stained brown.
Though I've never seen him, I know he loves the blood of flies,
wait watching from his cryptic veils with his piercing ebon eyes.
I know you think you are so smart that you can get right by him,
with your dreams of clement love, you're not the first to try him.
And so I warn you, here right now, slow down to catch your breath,
for many a dreamer has blindly followed visions to his death.
Thoughts move hands to shape the life you only once receive,
pause long enough to understand the things that you believe."
"Pish paw, oh mother," said the fly, "You can not frighten me,
I am too young and smart and fast, I'll live eternally!
And even if there is a monster living in my sky,
what on earth would old "It" want with such a little fly?"
So, he would sleep and dream at night about a world so free
that all the spiders, flies and frogs loved in equality.
Before sunrise he buzzed away as happy as you please,
for he did love to see the sun rise shinning through the trees.
'What care I about some bug who lives up my the sky?
I'm like an angel buzzing round, so pure I'll never die!
For who would think the world is bad on such a glorious day,
or that there is an evil thought in nature's glorious way?
I've seen the things mom talks about up glittering in the sun
they don't look scary much to me, they're toys for splendid fun!'
So he decided on that day to fly high in the air
and show his mom and all the rest that life was really fair.
Way, way up he flew that day, far higher than before,
'til he was far above the distant needled forest floor.
And there up in the morning light he saw such pleasant sights
all round him twinkled brillianlty a million sparkling lights.
'Glory! Glory!' he exclaimed. 'I've found my earthly rapture!
How could I ever fear up here of predatory capture?"
He flew around in circles singing of the wondrous joys
of having courage in himself to see these glittering toys.
'Could those be jewels, so high in trees, just dangling in mid air?
But it's too far, I can not see, I must fly over there.
I must get closer to these things that promise such delight,
and maybe take some home to show my mother I was right.'
Closer. Closer. Closer still he flew down from the sky
dazzled by the twinkling lights that filled his hungry eye.
They floated there upon the air, and shuddered 'neath his wings
and when he whiffed their nectar sweet he burned to have these things.
'Just look at all these tasty gems, they glitter, they smell sweet!
Surely mother fears for naught, these must be good to eat!
Why I can't wait to fly right down and nibble on this candy,
I'll bring some home to show them all, these six arms sure are handy!'
So down he flew to reach right out and grab one with a pluck,
bing bang bing! the jewels all fell and little fly was stuck.
On his head a shower fell, jewels splashing like the rain
and worse than that, he tried to fly and felt a stabbing pain.
'They weren't jewels at all,' he said, 'just big old drops of dew.
Now how will I release myself from all this sticky goo?'
He looked around and saw a sight that made his heart to ebb
stretching out at every turn was an enormous web!
Fly gasped, Fly frowned, Fly glanced around the mess he was now in,
he flapped his wings, they got more stuck, how could he ever win?
'He he he,' he heard above, a manly kind of chortle.
'Who is it I have caught just now up in my sticky portal?'
And on a strand of shiny silk the voice came dangling down,
a big and hairy spider with a grin of teeth stained brown.
His black eyes glimmered hungrily, he smiled sharp and wide,
'I'm hungry as a wolf today and plan to suck him dry!'
The fly could see this spider ghoul was not his ideal brother,
what was it doing in the clouds where all good friends were lovers?
Somehow this gross monstrosity infested his sweet bliss
a sore on something pure, for sure, a bloody Judas kiss.
But surely this big stupid beast did not belong up here!
The fly must trick this vapid freak to make his heaven clear.
The spider lowered on its string down closer to the fly
the smell of this eight legged beast would make a stink weed die!
"Well, well," it hissed. "What have we here? A juicy little dish."
"I am not food, my spider man. I'm here to grant a wish!"
The spider stopped and looked at him with such a stupid grin
The fly could barely stop himself from laughing out at him.
"What do you mean by such a thing? You'll grant a wish? But why?"
"I've flown too close to your wet home and now I fear I'll die!"
"Why, so you have," said spider cruel, licking in his ichor,
"My favorite dish, 'Rum-basted fool' (I do hope you like liquor)."
Fly eyed the spider's liar with hopes of hobbies there betrayed,
but all he found were silky bundles nastily displayed.
Nothing moved, no one spoke, quiet as the grave,
Fly felt it must be lonely so to live in such a cave.
He grimaced at the spider, so close he smelled its breath.
He wasn't sure (being so young) but thought it smelled like death.
"Oh no," squeaked fly, "Please don't eat me! I'm no good in the wok!
For once I'm gone and all wrapped up, you'll have no one for talk."
The spider stopped its slow decline and hung there lost in thinking.
It finally looked back down at fly and said, as if with winking,
"What do I need of talk, my friend? Here I am quite content.
I am the king, I have control, my mind I don't relent."
"But what of leisure, what of pleasure, what of laughing chums?
You must be lonely with no friends but these drained dangling crumbs?"
Spider sighed, then glanced aloft at sacks strung in the rafters.
"Yes, it is very quiet here among these dried cadavers.
So tell me, little friend, what do you know of trendy topics?"
"I think you're life will be enriched by speaking of the tropics."
"Yes!" it said, "I've been alone here since I ate my spouse.
No one ever visits me, not friend nor foe nor mouse!
Please hang around, have a cookie, and if you have the smarts,
you'll learn my spider logic and you'll love my spider arts."
The spider pinched the little fly and climbed up fast as lightning,
had not the fly then fainted off he may have thought it frightening.
When fly awoke he was all numb but for his aching head
that pounded so he moaned out loud as if he were near dead.
"What is this now, where is this how, I know not why I crashed!
Tell me spider, if you can, my brain feels quite ker-plashed!"
But spider, he just crouched up there, whistling a little ditty,
wrapping up the little fly in white silk, nice and pretty.
Around and around and around the fly spun in the spider's claws
listening to the little song it sang around the gauze..."
"This is the house I built of webs way high up in the trees,
I catch all kinds of things to eat, mosquitoes, moths and bees.
Some I hang along the walls to show off to myself,
and all the rest I lay upon my 'Soon I'll eat you!' shelf.
But you, my fly, I plan to hang here in my pantry-let,
I fancy now to let live to be my little pet.
And now, since you can go no where, I'll spin a little story,
of biting, killing, drinking blood, all things you may find gory.
Don't pass out, here drink some blood, spiders love this goo!
I hope someday you'll lose those wings and be a spider too."
"The little fly was dizzy from the spinning round and round
and by the time he had his mind he found that he was bound.
On and on the spider sang, into the starry night
And when the little fly awoke he saw a frightful sight.
There upon the shelf so high were stacked up in a row
his mother, sisters, brothers, friends, caught looking for their bro.
And so fly hung there, upside down up in the spider's den,
watching spider gorge himself on all his little friends.
And when he finally died of fright awash in ghastly tears
the last words that he thought on earth were of his mother's fears:
'Thoughts move hands to shape the life you only once receive,
pause long enough to understand the things that you believe.'"
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