Butterflies Are Free

The wind whistles in the darkness
that is called the human scene.
Repressive waves upon the grass
collect the people to its embraces.
The soiled, home rule approach.
And butterflies are free too fly,
but not I, no, not I.

Conform to established laws.
"Repent ye of all thy sins".
Increase your paranoid eyes,
and Sunday, cry in a church.
A thousand million children die
for the sake of civilized man.
Butterfies fly high and free,
but not me, no, never me.

Your friends out-live you
by their conforming faces.
They are afraid to shine on.
Respecting only businessmen.
The whistling winds converge
in patterns of suppression.
Butterflies fly unhindered,
not so man, never mankind.

The snow covers hatred.
Cold and lonely we all are.
Intent on our solitudes
which we claim is human pride.
The winds of change
fail to collect anyone.
Butterflies fly high and free,
and tomorrow, millions die.

Reviews

[Chris]

a re-visit...

[.]

beauitiful enchanting read

[DfWigley]

Wow Michael, such a voice a wonderful way with words.
I really enjoyed this .

[bookworm]

I really enjoyed the way you started this one. It certainly inspired curiousity to read on. Thank you.

[Chris]

A new day - near evening... strong thoughts and clear tones. Definite and undisguised meaning.

Chris

[Sashalee]

A really beautiful poem

[Bailey B.]

I like the how everything is italicized and the poem is very true. Very nice :)

[Audrey Howitt]

Such an intensely true juxtaposition between the sins of mankind and the freedom of nature. Loved this piece Michael---