You wouldn’t believe what I saw today,
Oh no you won’t, you wouldn’t!
Nor would you believe what they had to say,
Oh no you can’t, you couldn’t!
Words overheard over a glass of ale,
Each time, it’s always the same,
And each and every one who told their tale,
They thought it untrue, and lame.
Can it be true, it’s a false account,
Fictitious, at any rate,
Like the one, of the sermon on the Mount,
A sweet, yet poignant date.
This tale when understood, it has no shame,
Were two ducks performing in nature’s game,
Two ducks were fornicating.
I guess the only thing that’s left to say,
And perhaps you’ll think it’s cool,
You to will tell that what we saw that day,
Was done in the hotel pool.
I Have to Wonder About Butterflies…
An enterprising and colourful butterfly,
Flitted by and without notice, whispered in my ear,
And told me about all the amazing and curious things it saw,
And a thousand thoughts flooded my mind…
An inquisitive situation indeed!
In that one moment – life,
Caught in its winged aeronautical eddies,
Turning and swirling and dancing,
Knowing and learning and looking,
Caring and loving and passion…
Taunted me to fly,
To go with this brave, beautiful insect!
I set my sights to follow and my journey begins again,
Another cycle of life rotates into place…
Pushed this way and that way and up and down,
I go willingly, with my eyes open, with my heart exposed.
And from somewhere beyond here, I hear:
“Catch that butterfly and you catch the wind,
And then you may hear their words, many lifetimes of words,
But you will catch up to time immemorial,
And you will become… time future!”
And… listen, to the song of its wings;
You will hear the joys of its travels,
And… feel the song that it sings;
You will touch the angst of its knowledge!
Follow that butterfly and it will surely drive you crazy,
Follow it all the way to the moon or follow it all the way to the sun,
Follow and maybe you will crash and burn,
But if you don’t…
Follow that butterfly;
It wants me to follow;
It needs me to follow;
We all need to follow!
In the act of giving myself to this journey,
It is only then, upon a selfless outflow of energy,
That I am capriciously carried,
In a seemingly cavitating-myriad of directions,
By my newest winged friend,
Onto that inner-most semi-conscience precipice,
Where here and where far below,
Where beyond and in between,
Where the light stands, and
There, in the shadows of the trees…
Are seismic lines, cut and drilling platforms, cleared!
Then at the same time and in the same place,
In the reflections of the water,
On the puddles and lakes and in the streams and rivers,
Are the colour-coded stains of time!
“My ancestors are calling me…”
I have to wonder about butterflies!
March 23rd, 2014….