Butterfly?

Butterfly?

Epihany

The same stubborn scenario
The same view every night
A silhouette, close to the edge
A moth under the light
The echo of my thoughts
On infinite repeat
A schizophrenic mind field
Of two and a half feet

Turned one hundred and eighty
In a blanketed cocoon
A butterfly to a moth
Under the light of the moon
A stark and palpable silence
An insurmountable rut
Urges, kept at arm’s length
Until my eyes flutter shut

Take me back to my muse
Release me from this storm
From the cold of my creation
The bitter back to the warm
From this tempest in a teapot
 These chilling winds of blame
 The frigid reality each night
The moth back to the flame

An exasperating tug of war
Across a span of diminished hope
There has to be some solace
Near the end of my rope
Nothing that I can do or say
Changes, impervious to gain
The collateral damage is done
A consequence to the pain

So many months, eaten away
The thin fabric of a ruse
Resentful of my own creation
 A moth disguised as a muse
Rose-coloured tunnel vision?
Wishful thinking all along?

For the sanity of lost time
It would help if I was wrong

Take me back to my muse
Release me from this regret
From the pall of uncertainty
That hangs over me yet
From the now back to the then
The difference of day to night
To open arms and an open mind
To a butterfly, in a better light

Perpetuity

Perpetuity
It’s not the barrel of a gun
but it’s aimed
right at you
An accusatory tone
loaded
with pointed words
Cutting
Gutting
Sharp as knives
Unfounded
Ungrounded
Affecting lives
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An unyielding hostility

cast out
with icy purpose
A dark and bitter place 
beyond
the point of no return
Weakness
Bleakness
Harsh and cold
Automatic
Autocratic
Purposefully oversold
Unforgiven
Unforgotten

To have and to hold
Unbending
Never-ending
Perpetually told

Precarious

Precarious
Every morning I see him
barely hanging on 
Dangling, precariously
under a lingering moon

Managing to endure
despite his battered shell
A razor piece of skin
holding him up high

Been torturous months
since that horrendous storm
Shattered his foundation
destroying his lofty view

Many extreme days since
of ice and punishing wind
Chipping away his perseverance
diminishing his resolve

I imagine his motivation
the reason for his strength
The last strand of resilience
that holds him there

The harsh and bitter elements
cracking through his will
Leaving him alone, wavering
on the brink of his demise

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I check on him again
battered by days end
Still hanging on, barely
by that same thread of hope

Any quick jab of pride
is quickly superseded
Replaced by the reality
of what lies ahead

Knowing that rest is fleeting
as night brings the unknown
One thin strand of determination
preserving his weary soul

Nights of wavering doubts
of cold and cruel struggle
Exhausting his perseverance
diminishing his resolve

I imagine his thoughts
through this arduous battle
Through the repetitive rigours
of winter’s constant extremes

Recognizing his own inevitability
his slight, precarious being
Perhaps, hoping not to fall
until the warm ground of spring

 

Cold

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COLD


Darkness fell silent

in black and white
Stark frozen winter 
cold, merciless night

Scant leafless trees
unwary and exposed
Desolate winter avenues
cold, icy and closed

Intoxicating and near
the scent of wood flames
Long winter evening
cold, careless games

Crisp breath of chatter
muffled and muted
Blunt, bitter winter
cold, sharp and refuted

Brutal relentless wind
frigid end to the day
Harsh winter reality
cold and credulous way

A blanket of isolation
numbing and weary
Sleepless winter night
cold, distant and dreary

Light through the window
awakening and reflective
Chilly winter morning
cold, silent perspective

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