But something was lacking. What could it be? What could perfect perfection?
Something within the Mother Spider's vision flickered. She turned toward the movement and saw, outside the window of her chamber and frantically trying to enter, a moth. It was beautiful, with a body of incandescant blue and green, and wispy white wings that continued to batter insistently against the window. The moth's beauty and vitality pleased Mother Spider, and she kindly opened her window, letting the creature in.
But as moths will, it flew straight toward the brightest light it could see -- the brilliant flame of a candle that lit the Spider's work. Not wanting the wonderful creature to perish, Mother Spider swatted it away from the candle, in the process tearing a few threads of the tapestry with her claw. As the moth returned again and again toward the flame, the Weaver persisted in swatting at it until her tapestry was in a sorry state of disrepair. At last, with a flair of ire, Mother Spider lashed out and pinned the moth to the tapestry, just before it could reach the flame. As she glared at the creature, her ire faded. She could not remain angry with such a beautiful thing for long. Mother Spider could see that she had punctured the moth's wing with her claw. If she were to let it go, it would surely die. It would have to remain here, within the candle's heat, and lie still upon the tapestry until it had healed.
So, the Weaver wrapped the creature lightly in her thinnest, silkiest blue gossamer threads, securing it to the tapestry so that the comforting heat and light of the candle flame was not obscured. After Mother Spider had finished, she sat back and took in the ruin of her beautiful tapestry.
It had been so perfect. Now, such a mess. She would have to start again. She turned... And once again, her eye was caught by the flutter of the moth. Her gaze was drawn to the tapestry, and she realized that, though it had lost perfection, the tapestry had found what it lacked. The battered white wings fluttered once more: life. The one thing her Cosmos had wanted.
Well, now, she would have to restore it. Mother Spider sighed. It would take forever.
She picked up the candle, taking it with her to her sleeping web, and settled down to bed.
The moth watched as the light grew smaller and dimmer. It sparkled upon the gossamer threads of the moth's bindings, and as the moth's wings fluttered, the threads shimmered like a hundred pinpoints of brightness in the dark.