Burning water
scars your skin.
Arched back, slipping
on the cold marble.
Trapped
like an animal, trying to

fly away.
A spark, a golden haze, a rainbow
as light meets water
Your prison
a glowing chrysalis.
The rush of

inspiration.
Flies fast
up, out of reach
It's wings
a vibrant orange
Rare and beautiful
It is

lost to you.
Slipping into darkness
The maze of the mind
A vast forest
Full of life, full of
dead ends.

You may catch a glimpse
of orange
through the mist.
Like a beggar, reach up with
grasping hands, desperate, feel
its touch, it burns
your frail fingers, and you
fall

into darkness
Blind as a beggar
Empty and cold, you wait
for the rush to return
the rush of wings
vibrant orange
rare and beautiful
butterfly.