BAD BARD POETRY
Metamorphosis
(Who paints the eyes on the butterflies?)
Before our eyes and yet unseen
Myriads of miracles come into being
As we peer dimly in our world
Magic and mystery bloom and unfurl
From an egg in the womb, we may trace
The primordial development of our race
And likewise all that lives takes form
Develops, emerges and is born
Look there, a frog, a common fly
A beetle, a bee, a butterfly
From tadpole, grub and caterpillar
An unseen force commands the tiller
Orchestrating an unerring adherence
Re-ordering life and its appearance.
Yet we know more about the moon
Than the mystery wrapped in a gossamer cocoon
Creatures settle and change within
To pass in sleep and rise again
Do they dream new bodies and powers
And joining their kin amongst the flowers?
And from watery kingdoms rise
Hosts of startling dragonflies,
And clouds of mayflies that shine and glitter
In hours their watery grave to litter
All master their wings, and take to the sky
In fleeting moments, to mate and to die.
So too, we people who flourish to perish
We privileged witnesses, all life must cherish
Consider our duty, always keeping in mind
These ephemeral wonders of every kind
And how the unfathomable soup in chrysalis
Becomes a sublime butterfly of fleeting bliss