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Transformation

caterpillarThe Transformation 

 

Browned by the sun,

The leaf is alarmed

at its duller dress

of rue; sorrowfully

it sucks from the cracks

on the ground hoping to

replenish its hue.

 

A lowly caterpillar

crawls from dust to

dust, as silent as death,

when it’s knocking;

it leaves neither

footprints, nor a song

at the trellis, and

with the leaf

desire being.

 

After the drought,

an invasion of splatter

spearheads a coronation!

From the darkened

depths, death

cannot stifle

the beginning

of ascension!

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Ruth Mostrales a.k.a. Picket Luna, April 2009

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