The Cathedral's Guardian.

In the heart of Spain, where shadows play, An old church stood, in twilight’s sway. Upon its tower, high and grand, A spider spun, with legs so spanned.

Centuries passed, the world below, Changed and shifted, ebb and flow. Yet there it stayed, in silent keep, A guardian of secrets, dark and deep.

Its web, a tapestry of time, Woven with whispers, old and prime. It watched the stars, the moon’s soft gleam, And dreamt of oil, a golden dream.

One fateful night, it ventured down, From its lofty perch, to the ground. It drank the oil, lamps grew dim, A giant now, with power grim.

The church in shadows, cold and still, Felt the spider’s ancient will. For life and death, it knew the dance, A creature born of fate and chance.

So heed this tale, of web and night, Of ancient beings, out of sight. For in the corners, dark and deep, Mysteries of life and death do sleep.