White Butterfly Of God

White Butterfly Of God
© Surazeus
2024 09 07

If I want to understand what birds think 
I should write a letter to the dead god 
that would flutter lame in the muddy field 
where desk lamps walk around on chicken legs, 
yet all I find are blind clowns who play chess 
in contest for who will be King of Hell. 

So instead I sit in the wood row boat 
on the mountain lake where mist whispers why 
people tend to equate love with despair 
because apple pie fills the heart with hope 
that someone somewhere might just understand 
how sad ocean waves pretend not to care. 

Because the black telephone on the wall 
never rings with the most important news, 
I follow the white butterfly of god 
to the windy hill where the bright moon waits 
for me to bring the pen I use to write 
letters to mothers whose young children died. 

All the famous poets in business suits 
leave blank books on wood coffin of the bard 
who was born on island of laughing skulls, 
except the oldest woman in the world 
dressed in black lace gown who gives me the ring 
she forged from beating heart of the white horse. 

Sorting through puzzle pieces of the world 
that never seem to fit in the big picture, 
I extract throbbing eyes from my glass brain 
and glue them to the television screen 
so I can see all people of the world 
who watch Narcissus sing heart-aching ballads. 

Performing role of Icarus on stage 
in global theater of the absurd, 
I spread wings of feathers from swans and crows 
with awkward grace of the elegant fool 
to deliver dramatic monologue 
expressing wish to live a normal life. 

To be or not to be the wingless angel 
who falls in love with tragic heroines, 
I try to rescue them all from abuse 
but they get killed by weak and fearful men 
before I even know that they exist, 
so I pin their photographs on the wall. 

If I listen to birds sing long enough 
I might hear the name of every dead soul 
who ever lives in all the universe 
while I walk alone on the signless road, 
retrieving letters from the muddy field 
where thousands chase white butterfly of god.