The Crying Spider - Odilon Redon

For lack of eyes the sockets have plumbed the abdomen for
the internal darkness the tears have spanned the moments for the past
not forgotten, the past once alive between the stone lips slipping
into the black fur where fangs wait to stick through the once skin for the
bright memory of I lost in the spindled hairs of the hidden I that has not
been anything but I from the first moments, the bright past, and
the crying present, for underneath the lines there are the shades that
for I are not ever truly ever, known.