{ Paradox }You weave a web about my soul..tickling my brain withteasing bits of scattered knowing.Stimulating the cells within,I awaken to your voice...a voice that is dull, such thatI cannot comprehend.Like the soft whisperings of fate;of lights and Science.You whisper tomy earth,barren though it may be..the river still flows.Astounded, I am,at the thought oftechnology andnature meeting.I knew you, from my dreams, but I did not understand..until today.Today...Like a fly sees,the web a spider lays..Are you a trap? ; (Ackbar : It's a TRAP!)A silken snare designedto catch me?;to pull me down from the pathI have chosen?or...Am I to be your dinner;of flesh,sweat,blood,moaning in pleasure asI am devoured?All day my thoughts..they seemed to turn to you..your words move me somehow... affecting me to the core.with some longing;I cant understand..energy...scattered thoughts; all combinedto shape out of the Chaos undying.You..Who are you, I wonder..Are you thoughts..dreams...Lust....desire..?Are they all part of you?Still, I wonder.I see the greed in you.The lust for this life..and those so called "toys".Do you not understand ?Toys and trappings of lifeare what keep you behind..Never moving forward;always looking back.Chains bind you to so called"things"How to live,why to live,where to live,what to live,traps to keep,what to give..But, in the end,they're just"things"after all.Sometimes I cry for those like you..Trapped in your webs likea spider traps the unsuspecting fly. Rolling in your own pathetic filth..orher mate.Which to be?The spiderorher prey?What shall I be to you?A meal?Perhaps...We shall see when the time arrives for us.orWill I make a meal of you?I feel you,You know..running slient through my headmy mind reelsas I think of the many thingsI know.You're in my dreams.You happened,once.I saw youas I woke,feeling you close.Slightly confused;knowing you,yet not.I see you now,waiting in anticipationfor the act to begin.Are we actors on the same stage; See the play then go our seprate ways?Seeing each other in passing?Smiling,remembering the taste of your flesh,the sounds of you as you writhed in pain, bleeding;spilling your blood.Yet, again.on this dead earth,Nothing grows;barren,yet..the spring has not run dry.