Metamorph

Born in the chrysalis of a locked down society,

Spreading it’s new wings under the rising Sun,

Casting off the mantle of its grubbish impropriety,

A new day dawns as the old days are done,

And as the winds of change solidify its purpose,

To go into the world and pollenate the fields,

The, “Meadow Brown,” abandons its cocoon now that it’s worthless,

And the damage of it’s greed as a grub is then revealed,

And the leaves of the plants that it chewed down to stubs,

Rattle on their branches as they’re troubled by the winds,

And it grieves for damage and the greed of its grubs,

And with resolute acceptance it opens up its wings,

And though it’s fate is tragic it doesn’t try to shirk it,

It must repair the damage, it must show due respect,

Its flapping wings hold magic though it knows not how to work it,

But its wings will stir the winds of the, “Butterfly effect.”

◄ Still Hope

Once More ►

Comments

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Jason Bayliss

Sun 17th May 2020 16:50

Thanks Po, high praise indeed coming from a wordsmith such as yourself.

J. x

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poemagraphic

Sun 17th May 2020 08:13

OMG! This is poetry.

You have certainly taken flight.

..."Its flapping wings hold magic though it knows not how to work it,

But its wings will stir the winds of the, “Butterfly effect.”...


Beautifully written.
Po

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