In the silence of the moonlit night,
Creeping shadows weave their thread,
Silent artisans of the dark,
Crafting webs where dreams are spread.

With legs that dance in intricate grace,
They spin their tales of silk and dew,
Each strand a whisper in the air,
A testament to what they knew.

Beneath the stars, their art unfolds,
A labyrinth of fragile might,
And in the morning’s gentle glow,
Their masterpiece is bathed in light.

Oh, spiders of the midnight realm,
Guardians of the twilight’s breath,
In your web, our fears are caught,
And beauty rises from the depth.