Thoughts flutter through my head
Then disappear too soon, half-formed
Like a broken butterfly trying to live a meaningful life before sunset;
As she sails majestically though the flowers
Displaying her brash brightness in all its true glory –
Trying to compensate for the one flawed wing
With the beauty of the colours of her soul.
So – I reach out to grab those thoughts and ideas
That flit across my heaving brain
Before they can plunge to earth and disintegrate.
If an idea not quite complete can be caught in a net
And pinned down before it withers and perishes –
Then – All is not lost.
But there are so many;
I whirl around and around and flail my arms and wave my net
Back and forth Back and forth
And catch a few;
But far too many are blown by the breath of the wind
And I watch their hope-filled colours drift away and away
Out of reach.
I weep to see some fall to the ground and die;
Some vanish over the horizon with no promise of return;
Others are drawn towards the sun and I am dazzled –
Do their papery parchment wings burn out with a sighing flame
If they fly too close to the truth of the bright solar light?
And I look into my net like a spider peering at its web
And see my helpless prey:
Ideas flap-flapping on broken wings
Thoughts doomed to be lost forever if not pinned down.
So I take out my pen and I write and I write til my head aches
Til I have drained the last spark of life from them onto my voracious page
And they lay quiet and spent.
Then I throw down my sword, the pen which has slain them
And head on hands I sleep with grateful exhaustion.
But no no no – too soon I hear
Flap-flap against the window of my fast-closed eyes
More patchwork clouds of butterfly thoughts demand admittance.
I shake my head from side to side
I try to read them all but some are flitting away already;
I cannot let them all escape
I must cast my net again and again.
It is the only hope of saving my sanity.