The black butterfly

As the sun finally gasps,

before settling in the orange bay;

the darkness creeps in

stealing all the colors of the day.

With timid eyes rise

the creatures of the night;

silently fluttering, makes its way,

the black butterfly.

The world, surreal to her,

cast under the blanket of sorrow;

dazzled with darkness,

she looks for some colors to borrow.

Though the creatures of the day, shortly,

seem to fall frail;

shivering in fear they hid,

as the darkness prevails.

Once glorified, the Eden is mopped

under the rug of shame;

even the painted yellow tulips

seem to have forgotten their names.

The butterfly silently moved past

the dark waters of the sorrowing stream;

humming, like a song, stuck in the head

from a distant dream.

She reached to the lilies

perched along the dismal gorge;

meditating they seem as they enter

into the abyss, with forge.

The night seems to fall heavy,

like some burden to their souls;

they silently praying to clean their conscience,

before the new sun rolls.

The butterfly, once again,

mystified by these actors of the night;

awaiting the sun to put a shadow

on their perpetual fights.

Soon, the creatures will rise again

gaining back their colors for another start;

marooned for yet another day, as the butterfly

makes its way back to the dark.

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19 thoughts on “The black butterfly

  1. I agree with RS Love… I enjoy poetry that’s goes beyond the surface, with meanings so deep that I have to re read, ponder and just sigh… with goosebumps on the inside

  2. I love the harmony between the words and emotions that your poems have. Has a certain musicality. The metaphors are beautiful and so is the term “black butterfly”.
    Amazing post.

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