Butterfly

 

The caterpillar thought:

You have no integrity.

The metamorphosis understood:

Beauty and monsters would

Neither exist  nor end in  infernity 

If any butterfly be caught.

Breathe

We live in the noise;

we survive in the silence-

and the room

she does not abide either.

Breathe - breathe

and sense your place.

*credit image from Van Gogh Exhibit 

Nexus

 

Ahh my sweetness!

Thy beauty leaves me in surrender

as change must take us both

to an inevitable next season;

a metamorphosis

where everything is a nexus.

Transformation

When change is in the air 

the heart yearns longer visions

and yet, the soul must dare

sentiments to make self-elisions.

Metamorphosis

What does it look like now

when the child is long gone

along with all its temerities

and the quieter voice prevails

for rhetoric of the wisdom

that life's energies are an ongoing  motion

driven by the art of change

and in the end -  the metamorphosis

will complete a full life that will be -

as it became.

Stillness

The way in -

    is always the way out

        in a two dimension view

of a stilled moment

that lingers around in haze

of nostalgia

or that excites in joy;

or dwells in the depth of sorrows.

The way in is - the way out

    sit my dear heart

to do nothing but reflect

in the stillness.

Crossing Circles

 

We must remember where we came from;

where we are headed

- and be grateful

if we had a long life to reflect upon.

After all, what we see coming is the inevitable

and what we leave -

we never owned;

We held it briefly

until bespeaks the crossing time

and the circles of Chaos

return us to essence.

Sanctuary Poets

As the change of seasons

hints it's presence...

the call of the wolf- 

saying:  leave the open;

find the woods.

There is no sanctuary in poetry

there can't be!

Curtains of Chimera

There are no truths nor untruths;

only things that are and that change

as we change - 

my fantasy is my reality 

until the curtains of chimera 

are pulled away from my illusions...  

and so I wonder.

Candle Light

In the darkness where I may dwell

I am the candle light as well

that conquers the night

even if only for a moment

to ease the solitary torment.

A Compass of Truth

 

An old man's best friend

When the ways and means

Become disentangled from vision

And even the familiar, spin the needle.

   This compass knows the end.

On the 5th Day of 'Rona

 

How surreal the world becomes

when on a string like a kite;

each movement of the head sways

and blends together - alike.

A plasma of visions in sugar plums

as one sits idle and in a muddled daze

the 'Rona fog has consumed

thoughts until further notice - to resume-