Cesar Santos “The Moth and the Lamp”
A butterfly born
Likewise in eclipse
May
With the morning rise
Why can’t I taste
With impunity
The same pride?
*
In shadows a beauty
Unseen and misaligned
Lachrymose
These jaundiced eyes drip
Do not speak
Of instinct
As if delirium
If I am mad
Then upon
My breath I vow
That you
Suffer decorously
But suffer
Nonetheless
*
Why must I abide
In darkness?
An anathema
This rivalry
This bias
That forbids
Fruition
*
Say that you
Do not understand me
For are we not all
To some archetype
Enslaved?
Do we not all
Seek that which we
Perceive deficient?
*
For Magpie Tales
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