Studies in Sobriety Poetics Donate.
         
     

The Return

 

     

 

I saw a figure sitting in a temple
  with a flower in its hands
and it was surrounded by monks,
  then there was a smile.

And from the figurines mouth came
  a thousand butterflies,
which swirled around each monk
  then flew out into the world.

Then they all turned into stone
  a garden of illumination,
waiting for the return of the Monarch
  the origin of colours.

    Millenia later.

The statues had but turned to dust
  and the temple gone
yet the butterflies kept coming
  from nowhereness.

Then the vision was suddenly gone
  and outside my window
I saw a yellow butterfly fluttering by
  and I smiled once more.

       
 
         
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