Does the butterfly feel pain in the change?
What if the beauty is terrific
and the caterpillar screams inaudibly?
Will I come to a wall and never know?
How can these spring blooms break my heart again and again
when the wind loosens them gently?
The anniversary waltz that started a dream
goes on, it seems.
How does a connection grow when the onion skins over
and over so that physically
you are farther and farther away? and yet….
We always dream of a way not known.
A way felt, as in a new system of measuring.
How can you not trust it
when you stand to lose nothing?
But how can one gamble/ how can’t one gamble when you feel its breath?
Maybe we dream more as the doors are closed
and the walls put up.
The pockets of memories enshrined
and moved to the mantel in a cocoon you expect to die in.
albtraummusik 