Love’s Butterfly
I feel I’m on a deserted island;
floating on an ocean of air;
with only memories, surrounding;
and no one left to care.
Reality has surrendered to the surreal;
all of my purpose seems gone;
my empty life has so little appeal;
and yet; I must live on.
Although, in a realm so magnificent;
I’m lacking a purpose to stay;
at long last; I’ve become insignificant;
and long to just steal away.
Death has very little appeal to me;
it’s only another season;
still in search of what I’m to be;
I’m nothing; without reason.
I’m born to be in the Master’s service;
cast out of the kingdom above;
I am no longer a being of purpose;
for I am nothing; without love.
I’m a weed in the Master’s garden;
always seeking to interpose;
an empty suit; seeking a pardon;
the thorn; upon the rose.
I’m a caterpillar in a cocoon of words;
I’ll remain so; until I die;
a poet; rhyming nouns and verbs;
created as Love’s butterfly.
Monty 10.27.25. # 3,033