We will return again!
In a new form.
Promethean shell.
Rotting in hell.
Or close proximity.
To what you know
as
a butterfly theory.
Reborn in a new form.
We are in a mass chorus.
But our words don't register.
As completely chaotic.
Echoes in a blackest chamber.
Trapped in our linear forms.
String theory we have to
be a fly in a web now.
To become a beautiful tarantula.
The skull like a cicada in the wind.
As mushrooms and plants begin to seed
inside.
What is the beginning is also the end.
Hands coming out from the Earth.
Come from the oceans silent deity.
-
Author:
ReflectionShadow (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 18th, 2023 22:23
- Comment from author about the poem: ...does the butterfly come knowing it was another creature?
- Category: Fantasy
- Views: 2
Offline)
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