I shall spin a web of wily tales,
for spiders to ponder,
and mutter in wonder:
“A marvel ‘t falls not asunder!”
For bees to buzz around,
inquisitive-like and nosy,
and perhaps to drop some honey,
to sweeten it even more.
Fire-flies ‘ll burst into flame,
at the magic of its splendour,
asking themselves the meaning,
or the purpose of this riddle’s plot.
And the pixies, they shall come,
from far away in faery land they’ll flock,
to carry back these tales of light,
to the King that holds all secrets.
For Him to proclamate aloud to all,
and p’rhaps even to sundry,
this news of great portent,
that a true bard is born again.