The Xysticus and Lycosidae Conundrum (a spider's identity crisis)

 A hundred little hatchlings ride atop
The back of their Wolf-Spider mother; she
Shall carry them--and if one falls, she'll stop
To pick one up and never leave one be.
She will not let them go before she's seen
That they'll survive without a family.

Consider now X. audax spiderlings
Who know no family, nor do they care;
They fly, upon their silken spider strings,
at Life--into whose eyes they boldly stare.
They fly unknowing if they will survive
To land, and further strive to stay alive.

I'll tell you now just what amazes me:
Thoughts of Xysticus and Lycosidae;
How one depends on solidarity,
And how the other simply floats away.
I wonder which I am, and I must say:
neither Xysticus nor Lycosidae.

There are more options than just left or right,
More to my journey than the ground or sky.
My wand'ring eyes see more than black and white,
More than the ultimatum, "Live or Die."
The walls are white but Passion paints them red;
My mind screamed "Wrath" but "Love" is what I said.

The nuances are harder to explain,
I'm different but I also am the same;
To rid of this confusion, I am fain--
But Soul has rein, and Soul I cannot tame.
The Door I curse, the Altar I conceal;
I trudge behind the concord without zeal.

The concord, yes, but Concord is a lie,
A mask behind which Discord hides its face;
While Xysticus continues now to fly,
(And merry riding, those Lycosidaes)
I find my sense; which one I can now say:
I am Xysticus and Lycosidae.

A cross, perhaps, a blunder made by Fate;
A strangeling with the knick and knack of both,
And burdened by a (frankly, puzzling) trait:
I cannot fly--alas!--; to stay, I'm loath.
Unfortunate, and, grudging, I must say:
I am Xysticus-- and Lycosidae!