117. Madame Butterfly
My heart's own melody
is full of melancholy
like a butterfly in winter
lost in random alien land
of futuristic surrealism
that can't make anyone feel at home,
and least of all a singing butterfly.
But somehow my songs keep me up and going
since they only tell of my yearning
for better worlds of more beauty,
for closer love and warmer humanity,
for everything that enhances life
and makes it more endurable
for all those alien singing butterflies
that came into this world like from another planet
to use their brittle fluttering wings
to make even the worst possible world
come around from dead end troubles just to fly.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-08-28 at 12:47
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