Scream of the Butterfly

December 12, 2008 § Leave a comment


What is your birth name?
A number hidden in black flames.
A white cross
blowing in dross.
The center of existence
draws a circumference
around fluttering pages,
skipping through the ages;
miles long
of the millennium song-
never heard.
My knowledge of a word-
in cities of detachment.
There are no rules,
no choices of schools.
Watch the season pass by
and greet the butterfly.
As she vanishes in the steeple,
so do the people.


© Sonya Rose

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