By J Ann Crowder
Hope is a design of expanding, utopian branches bound to my heart
Hope is a genteel medicine of fairy fay butterfly wings—a divine surrender
An emblem of authentic truth in which my soul longingly whispers
By and by, vibrantly cherished joys retreat to my inner core, like turning petals of fibonacci
Within my silently centered being, I create with a lightness of quiet grace
A transfiguration ensues, like arrays of polished rainbows dancing a quixotic tune
Inside my eluding tower an awaited, ghostly phantom appears—a sacred rebirth
Upon a germinating zeal of empyreal growth, I ever keep
A goddess is unfurled—my soul no longer a stranger
She is a luminous, runic of perfection
’Tis an ell of starry wings ready to touch a fresh, teal sky’s brilliance
Written January 11th, 2017. Life is like the transfiguration of the butterfly. Hope is the wings of the butterfly on our heart.
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