Metamorphosis
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That happens to happen
by the passion eclectic
in the deep youth of night
as we move across obsessively
the time and space
as novels of the tonight
as when we descend slowly
into the room of its illusion
from yesterdays dream knackered
to today again to tomorrow,
like a fragrant rose
from bud to faded stance
are we not the same
we were by the time
but with little changes
not yet being befuddled
to the need of our hours
desire when intoned
as attuned to the plexus
of life and living hand in hand
holding the baited breath
yet intense and disillusioned
as courses upon
by the metamorphosis............
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