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trystPoems
Did you ever, as a child, chase a butterfly, A tiny Golden Birdwing, perhaps Or a Bronze Roadside-Skipper? Flitting, faster than an arrow, Over a rusting wheelbarrow fortress, Under an electrified washing line, Dive-bombing plastic remnants Of the light infantry, Before spinning away, Courting the breeze in a whirling dance, Winged-eyes blazing bright as childrens' buttons, Vanishing in a cluster of gold chrysanthemums, Reappearing, fluttering freely, From a sea of bronze fennel. Did you dash dash dash, Arms flailing madly, Mouth locked in a giggling grin? And did you ****** ****** ****** Tiny hands grasping, clutching at air, Desperate to hold natures princess? Do you remember?             Dashing,  Snatching,  Grasping, And suddenly,                           She      Was      Gone? And did you dare peep, clumsily, Into your tiny hands, Between your fragile fingers, Half afraid you missed her, Half again, you may find her,             Crushed  In  Your  Hands? The quest for desire is a chase, So demanding, So determined, So distracting, Attainment without consequence Is your end game, And is all that matters Until you face the consequence Of your end game, When all that matters             Is  What  Remains  In  Your  Hands?
0
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
Quest For Desire
Did you ever, as a child, chase a butterfly, A tiny Golden Birdwing, perhaps Or a Bronze Roadside-Skipper? Flitting, faster than an arrow, Over a rusting wheelbarrow fortress, Under an electrified washing line, Dive-bombing plastic remnants Of the light infantry, Before spinning away, Courting the breeze in a whirling dance, Winged-eyes blazing bright as childrens' buttons, Vanishing in a cluster of gold chrysanthemums, Reappearing, fluttering freely, From a sea of bronze fennel. Did you dash dash dash, Arms flailing madly, Mouth locked in a giggling grin? And did you ****** ****** ****** Tiny hands grasping, clutching at air, Desperate to hold natures princess? Do you remember?             Dashing,  Snatching,  Grasping, And suddenly,                           She      Was      Gone? And did you dare peep, clumsily, Into your tiny hands, Between your fragile fingers, Half afraid you missed her, Half again, you may find her,             Crushed  In  Your  Hands? The quest for desire is a chase, So demanding, So determined, So distracting, Attainment without consequence Is your end game, And is all that matters Until you face the consequence Of your end game, When all that matters             Is  What  Remains  In  Your  Hands?
Being the third ...
#love#life#mystery#questforseries
tryst
Written by
tryst
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
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