Archive
04/07/09 - (2)
Butterflies
Though inching up on sixty-eight, I still feel an intense sensation of equanimity — Call it happiness, inner peace, completeness — Realizing that, in mind and spirit, I possess an integrity echoing the measures of my soul.
Whether I continue achieving wholeness, Which arises from poetic climaxes, epiphanies, odysseys, Letter by word by line by stanza by verse, Or decline, into unmeasured silence, Depends on the burn of the fire in my creativity's furnaces.
Tonight, I meditate on the gift That's permitted me to commit my existence to eternity, By chasing and netting butterflies — Metaphors soaring, migrating, back and forth, Between my psyche and its imagination.
04/07/09 - (2)
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