Jesus Gibran! I would be afraid a gust of wind or a badly timed sneeze might blow some of that into my eyes or nose and I'd spend my life being prodded by nurses with broom handles trying to remove me from the ceiling of a mental institution.
'Little spider weaves a wispy web, stumblin' through the woods it catches to my head. She crawls behind my ear and whispers secrets. Dragonfly whiz by and sings now teach it.'