Monday, November 11

Moth

MOTH
Child, fluttering against the dark,
Moth wings dusted, gilt with a translucence
Manifest only to the heart,
Become what you promise to be.

Boy, moments past are ever-present,
Always who we are, an infinite endurance
Flitting above what is permanent,
Become what you promise to be.

Darling, the webs you build, they flower,
No small thing hopes for avoidance,
And gods, our dreams, devour,
Become what you promise to be.

Love, ensnared in winter’s box,
Winged thing, you move in elegance,
Turning keys in time’s false locks,
Become what you promise to be.

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