Midnight butterfly.

It was necessary

To write this in the evening

At the end of a day

At the end of a

Day's worth of work

Before I am able to 

Sleep off the hurt

Before my chrysalis bed

Makes me another late night butterfly

With completely new patterns

Beautiful, yes, no doubt

But

I often regret not writing it down

And I know

I just know

I just fucking know

That the words might come to me in bed

Or in dreams

Or some other ageless and disconnected location

So I will right(write) this at night

Before the day ends

Because this is about the day

Or the sun rather

And the passion it brings

The symphony it sings

Such things must only happen in day

(Must or should?)

In every book I've read

And every song I sing

Hear

Make with my mouth

Every lily-white perfect parchment I find

I've even seen it written in the sky

The clouds that shape my dreams

Can mock me too

And rain into a pond and my chaos eyes

Can only see the same thing there

A ripple a shake a pattern embedded

In life

Though it's no objective truth

It is written in the minds of every hopeless

Dreamer and romantic I meet

And they beam it to me with their eyes

Their perfect burning starstruck eyes

How do they know?

They've seen it too and actually listened

A common red thread wired into

Every single thing I see

Art is only extant for this single truth

Or so it seems to me

Because my focus only goes so far

You love someone-

You know the love of which I speak

Yes? You know it too

The total love resplendent and complete

That artists try to crystallise

(And fail, as I am now)

They couldn't and they never could

Never will find the formula

To keep this love in a jar

In a box

Under locks and keys

The love is wild

Yes, that love

You hear it said

(In books in songs)

That this love begets a need

A full need

Like the knockout from a deep red wine

Full and total and palate staining

I feel this need

I feel this needing to complete

Something

I'm not sure at all

A love can only come full circle

With utter knowing

Or so says the red thread

In everything

And like the totality of the thing

I need to know more

I hunger for more

I die every time I realise

That strangers might know more of you

Think me not so petulant as

To be unable to share

(My feelings on the matter are no secret

I love to let love happen)

But the heartbreak is that I don't share

I simply can't

When it isn't even mine to share

I wrote this at night
And through it I greeted the new day