I woke, a beast with purpose in its veins.
I felt like some weakers were in need of a wall.
It felt inconsistent, to hate the darkness, but not a raise of fist to it.
But what is one man, with so many tigers?
So I researched the Crap out of things. Burnt the wick, at both ends.
But what can you do, when you're locked in four corners?
And so I went out there. Into the world, where NIGHT could happen. . .
It wasn't easy. The tigers were bigger than the ones you see at the zoos.
And I had a coward, still hiding in me. I was not ready, to see my own shadow. To go . . . fully into the NIGHT.
But then one arachnid changed all that. . .
I could jump. I could fly. I could lift an elephant, if I needed to.
I could even shoot sticky from the palms of my hand . . . --that was WEIRD!
But you get used to these. Everything can become . . . your new normal.
All it took. . . was a little adrenalin. a little intentionality. a tiny bit of hatred.
Soon, I could slay a rhino, with a stinger in my butt. It's odd, I know.
But the people thanked me. To the weakers . . . I was a god among legends.
They brought me burnt offerings . . . and I slew their beasts for them.
and I enjoyed myself for a while. It's good to be king. to be hero.
but soon you started to want things for yourself. no longer content . . . for applaud and a paycheck.
Why couldn't I too have the tallest of towers? The loftiest of perches. My own beauties. . . to come and my beck and call?
I started to learn. . . those things which drove the villains I conquered.
the quest for more . . . that was in your reach. How does one curb this?
When one is a god?
So soon I took. Whatever I wanted. By hook . . . or crook . . . by web . . . or by wonder.
For I was . . . the Spider-Man.
One day though, I saw two things . . . which throttled my world. It was two different children.
I found the first child pretending to shoot webs at cars passing by. And then he'd hide behind other vehicles. He seemed to enjoy destruction and power.
I covered my eyes. It was hard to look at.
I had become. . . the wrong sort of thing to emulate. I didn't like what I saw in that child.
The second was a girl. She just sat crying. Her mother asked her what was wrong. She said it was the Spider-Man. He no longer was himself.
They say that children are nothing in this world. Just wee adults, only half-baked.
But these little people were who turned me around.
I gave back what I'd stole. I destroyed those castles I didn't need to live in.
I decided to make children adore me again. but for the right reasons.
So I turned myself in. I sought for quiet places to consider my future.
I swam in waters which clean the soul.
Sometimes you have to come clean. . . to do good in your world.
. . .have to repent.
Do I still have my shadow? of course. Who doesn't?
but would you have me . . . any other way?