What spiders find

Sometimes I ask myself if the dead really do go to heaven

Normally I discard the thought

As
"probably not,
But,
it doesn't really matter"

Occasionally I consult the remnants of their lives

Not in a seance and not in prayer

But in mementos

The gifts that lay forgotten
Unspoken of 
As we stand above those little knots we tied as kids and the ones we tied in love
the knots made of bringing our strings together
Shoved and Tucked away in boxes
groves of life in dimly lit places they don't belong
Troves found only by spiders who fight little wars in the dark to lay claim to what long ago lost its spark to us
the bigger folk

Even forgotten a memento in a box must be worth something

That the spiders would lay their silk upon it

...I doubt there's many flies on it

So.. 
I asked them a question

and all these little spiders did was continue to spin their web
I did not disregard their answer
instead
i read

and ..... I think the truth of the sky is held in it
these eight legged artists are just trying to help us understand

That when we look to the sky to sustain us like they are all literally looking down on us
We are fishing for lies in an empty sky like a web
fishing for flies
in a box
in the basement.

Yet we spin our webs here
and those spiders remember why
 we could look in our hands
and they could look into the winds
look into the sky for ghostly eyes
To give some joy in their end
but here instead we can remember and know
they did
And continued to
until the end of their VERY existence
Love us

That there is not the slimmest chance they will ever change their mind
and find
that we no longer deserve it

And that means more than the glare of ghosts on your life

Or the power of a god over theirs

This truth is hidden in tiny treasure troves found only by the spiders who weave out the truth each night

And I'm glad I learned to read