Butterfly Monsoon

Through the trees they swoon you like a monsoon,

Covering the valley in blue-winged snowflakes.

They're everywhere, flapping and fluttering,

Glazing the land in delftware, or Santorini steeples,

Blown through the mistral past the lost horizon,

The light distorted, senses failing, a wonder summoned

By your weary eyes of fortune, young one,

My son, my sleepy son, laying lazily in my arms.

Entering darkness they come into your eyes,

Obsidian gateways to an enchanted heart,

Draining into a phantasm you stole from the world,

Butterflies wrapped in bows and ribbons, trapped

Behind the shutters when you closed them,

As they stole your soul from me,

Off into some inaccessible oblivion.

Now beneath the water you see them,

Wings ripped by currents, shadows severed,

Ambient imperium of heaven alight,

Contrails of the sky train you took last night.

Swarming your thoughts, you only see blue,

Softly swaying in my arms holding you tight,

Bathed in blue, the curtain parting,

You see my face as you wake with a start,

Purified breath of change, becoming blue.