This poem emerged from a dream that I had. The dream was of a herd of lemmings racing toward a cliff. A single lemming froze in place like a single frame in a movie.\u00a0 The other lemmings continued largely like lemmings do, and, as they approached the cliff, the ground beneath them crumbled. The lemmings fell in a mass of dirt and lemmings, nearly indistinguishable. As this was happening, a multitude of butterflies descended onto the single frozen-in-place lemming. After the butterflies completely cover the lemming, they flew the lemming into the distant sky.<\/p>\n
I see this dream as a metaphor for mutual aid, particularly for those who break away, for any reason, the suicidal mob that is our nation. Be a butterfly. Fly with the multitudes of butterflies.<\/p>\n
Masses of Butterflies<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n The lemmings scurried This poem emerged from a dream that I had. The dream was of a herd of lemmings racing toward a cliff. A single lemming froze in place like a single frame in a movie.\u00a0 The other lemmings continued largely like … Continue reading
\nRazing forward
\nNose to tail
\nUntoward a cliff peering
\nWhen a singular lemming
\nHad a stroke
\nOf unusual genus
\nFrozen in place
\nInaction hero pose
\nNot with standing the species carried on
\nMost other lemmings were rankled
\nThe odd lemming was intrigued
\nEven as the ranks hurtled bye
\nSimultaneously
\nThe bluff beginning to crumble
\nBeneath the lead lemmings
\nAnd the wait of the uncontemplated
\nAn inescapable fall
\nWhere animals peered indistinguishable
\nFrom the dust
\nIt came
\nGround into the sky
\nDeath wading below
\nMaking more than mountain of mole hill
\nStill
\nThat soul lemming
\nEyes fixed
\nAbove
\nHi noon
\nAbout to be flocked
\nEclipsed by a swarm of butterflies
\nWhich separate light from dark
\nIn the mettle of the day
\nSow little
\nWon after another
\nAlighted
\nThat inscrutable statue to the unmovable
\nThat shield to all that would blank it
\nUplifting beyond what can be seen
\nCompletely taken
\nWherever butterflies freely assemble
\nAnd call home
\nAn open question
\nWhat to make of awe this
\nYet certain onlookers
\nSharing such fate
\nCan lonely say
\nAmoral of a story
\nOf lives and souls shuddered
\nIn efface of
\nAny out landish worship
\nOf masses of butterflies
\nBefalling us awe<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"