We live like a thousand butterflies in flight,
The pariah rays of sun glancing, glinting on our wings.
With a flutter, the level breaks into seven thousand unknown
Colours. We live each day like the ministers of delight.
We dance around the near-peripheries of night,
Waiting for the first rays of light to strike our sylvan forms, and diffuse
Into an anarchy of shapes that deceive the eye. Never content
With our written fates, we live to celebrate selfish beauty’s right.
We stay on resilient watch, as your moon draws magnetic silver lines,
Across the face of the sky. We watch as these lines converge,
We watch as these lines become a single white sheet of noise, binding
The sight where land kisses the sky, and day and night entwines.
Yes, we live like butterflies fluttering in eternal delight,
We live to wait the day, like bastard children of the night.
We live like crazy butterflies, our colours hiding our lives of shame,
For a day lived like a butterfly, we all die like Moths in the flame.
No comments:
Post a Comment