your soul-
i can see it in slow motion.
the velvety paper wings, fragile.
the broken cocoon left behind.
fluttering- inaudible humming.
the scent of wing powder, the taste so sweet.
your purple soul. your aura sings,
her joni mitchell softness.
your pikes peak elevation, 14,115 feet close to heaven
yet so down to earth,
with your head in the clouds,
but not like an empty warlock.
the warlocks say all souls go nowhere,
but yours changes like the wind,
like the invisible treasure chest of eternity.
their jewels have no value here.
compared to the iridescence of your soul,
the sweet phoebes blatantly agreed, they’re priceless.
and someday when we travel the forests together
we will synchronize steps, heartbeats, and intertwine our beings.
with the arcane dirt beneath our feet
we become stained, yet tarnished not.
“dum spiro spero”, while i breathe, i hope,
the trees whisper, reflecting my desire, urging us together.
your butterfly soul will glimmer along the path.