IN AND OF SHARED LIBERATING BIRTHS
Birds are born in nests.
Cocoons release butterflies:
Both fly away free:-
Why can’t people be likewise?:
Free, irrespective of birth.
caught by the drift
how it echoes
creating its own walls
a din undone
tying itself up in a bow
boxed and ready
to stare past souls
the substance of reality ebbs
with me amongst it, long lost
screams all at the outer edges
cocoons become brittle over time
yet may still bind those that don't shake free
I'm too tired to ask
if we've met before.
Cry my heart, in silence
for love has come and gone
stealing dreams of tomorrow
leaving quiet sobs of reflection
where yesterday clings in sadness
and hangs like cocoons of memories
painted by my brush of illusion
to haunt the bowed head of my soul
O’ lady of thy balming garden;
Where rose-buds awaken
Forth from their nervous cocoons,
And the plump tartness of
Blueberry oaks enthralls in me,
Thy piquant-laced perfume.
Black butterflies flutter through the courtyard carelessly,
their folly flitting through variegated foliage, creating
worlds so breathtaking so as to not be real, just as
imperial belladonna bows in reverence to Mother,
thankful for the necrotic nectar that will soon
be on their dying breath
Black butterflies drink turtle's tears to race streetlights
past yellow tape, the words that read "Do Not Cross"
a foreign language for anthromorphs with velvet eyes
on their back, giving insider views, behind the lines
declining the advances of bluebonnets, fixated
on Iris's crescent wings
Black butterflies are sticklers about their traditions,
many may even call them creatures of habit, but
they progressed their ideas about chrysalises
after watching their cousins crawling out of
cocoons, knowing there's no better way to
live than in spun silk
aspects of the flame
seeded in a descending arc
have each been capsuled in cocoons
floating in perfect elliptical orbits
in the matrix of space-time
separation is illusionary
being but an idea in the mind
that hypnotised by dancing shadows
dreams within dreams the cage
the flame of Self is veiled
by power of magnetism
ever pulsating in toroidal heart
all scattered energies therein converge
union gives rise to boundless bliss
manifest universe disappears
poised outside space-time
the Self renews itself within itself
as one without a second feeling complete
bereft of attributes free from fetters
dwelling in ineffable peace
Reach for the eternal urged my brain
Beauty’s a battle; kisses, marathons
Butterflies flee their cocoons, wings wet in June
A love song’s a tease, waning with the moon…
Shouts surreal overwhelm eternity
~ staggered by uncertainty
Arms like tiny windmills spin through morning air.
Aiming, she builds pathways?deep within her mind.
Another swing flows onward like waves upon the shore.
Awakening intention burns?as neural roads unwind.
Reaching past reflexes like butterflies from cocoons.
Rhythmic movements carve?the skills she'll always find.
Object permanence sparkles bright like diamonds in her sight.
Orchestrating muscles smooth,?her future self designed.
Hand-eye coordination weaves like spider's silken thread.
Happiness erupts when fists?and dangling targets bind.
Intentional movements bloom like flowers in the spring.
Infrastructure grows within?her brilliant, growing mind.
Oh Mourning Cloak butterfly, to where and to whom do you fly
Oh Admiral Butterfly, so many mirrors to count before you die
Oh Jezebel Nymph I love the way you sit on a summer's love flower
by a pipturus mulberry tree, where love blooms without cower
Oh silkworms of beauty eating mulberry leaves, thick as thieves
spinning cocoons warm as rain by a mountain of mulberry leaves!
Oh Monarchs, you with your autumnal colored wings of flaming geest
I love the way you flit around the mulberry tree like angels at a feast
Oh Mulberry tree how majestic thou art, standing by the rivers edge
it is here that I stand in beauty like the sun, taking my last pledge.
from mulberry tree
hoards of butterflies in flight
cocoons deserted
I have not seen a mulberry tree,
only the words that spoke to me.
Now I romance its boughs and shade,
where butterflies in beauty wade.
Beneath the hush of ancient skies,
the mulberry tree in silence sighs,
its roots like veins through earthen skin,
where time and memory begin.
A thousand hands have plucked its fruit,
a crimson stain, a whispered truth—
love once lost, love now found,
a tale in berries, dark and round.
Once, Pyramus and Thisbe fled,
where white mulberries blushed to red,
their love, a river, deep and wide,
a vow that even death defied.
And in its boughs, a silken thread,
where caterpillars weave the dead,
cocoons like prayers in golden light,
waiting to dance with borrowed flight.
From hushed decay, the wings emerge,
a breath reborn, a fleeting surge,
butterflies like spirits glide,
ghosts of silk and time untied.
I've been to the well
Too often to tell
The sky from a spell
Of ice salted dunes
Of threadbare cocoons
If there's a contrast
From future to past
The light sees it last
I breathe the allure
Of spaces obscure
Of nights darkly pure
Who else can I be
If I am not me
To straddle the sea
And follow the moon's
Melancholy tunes
Hearts are patched up
stitched tight
yet
small perforations
may
let in
that strange light
that is not light
like God is not God
Love is not a Band Aid
love doesn’t heal
it cocoons self-inflicted
wounds
it maintains the hurt
at acceptable levels
Rubber bullets
in time
wound the shooter
If your heart is big
you're going to need
more bandages
You may occasionally
stub a toe on love
however
you're more likely
to lose the ability
to walk or talk sensibly
No one ought to -
should
blame you
for this predicament
this
situation
...but they will
Words may come and words will go
Water rains and winds will blow.
Worms crawl ‘round and birds fly high
Stars are born and we wonder why.
We’re here at all and space is deep
Oceans rise while fast asleep.
Slumbering in our own cocoons
Underneath a bright full moon.
Dreaming is as dreaming does
Recalling love that never was
Waiting for the wake to rise
‘Till sunlight sings us back alive.
Holding your hand fills a void
yet clashes like oil and water.
I look at your smile like it’s the first one I’ve seen
etched in my mind
Technicolor.
I see you when I close my eyes.
I miss you in my sleep.
One day I will find what you represent.
The butterflies reverse to cocoons
but I find comfort in knowing they will emerge again soon.
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