Light flutters,
Butterflies escape,
A blind tongue
Babbles wisdom.

The affirmation of which
Came from lost souls
At the crossroads
Of beauty and treason.

Flowers flourish trying
To poke their  
Budding brains
Through the clouds,

Yet none reach so far
As to make a memory,
Or to make a memory fade,
To guide anew the light.

Wise was the caterpillar,
He who had not seen
Perpetual pain
Through the porous sky.

Vision flooding her words.
Hate born of love like
Poison leaking through
The petaled veil.

Hope can be elusive,
Fleeting as a butterfly,
Or a flower that never
Had the chance to bloom.

❦