The Hell Butterfly

Archive for September, 2019

– Totsiens, Anodyne –

I had always been a sceptic,
until I found reason to believe.
There is such a thing as destiny.
There is such a thing as fate.
Mine is this:
I am light down to my core,
and my soul does not know how not to be.
Incandescent monument for the world’s adoration until my darkest day.

I pass through life eliminating darkness by simply existing as I do.
Shadowed cheeks stained, blackened by her mascara tears
illuminate under my beacon.
I cast them out, dry them with the warmth
that I have always known in me.
The gloom retreats with nowhere left to hide
and she is free. She smiles and is free.
She turns and walks away.

Through dusk I roam, a pillar of light
melting away the heavy dark.

Here, a mound of flesh balled helpless,
victim to encroaching umbra.
He is small at my feet, unfurling as my dawn approaches.
I shine my sun upon him and he casts his eyes skyward,
grateful to be open once more.
Nurturing the roots of sapling joy,
he grows with the nourishment
that I have always known in me
and he is free. He smiles and is free.
He stands and walks away.

The sluggish night draws on,
lethargic in its play of midnight,
whilst I glow my subtle glow of day.

One by one, this light of mine revives the fallen.
One by one, this warmth of mine strengthens the weak.
One by one, this soul of mine trades life for life.
The fireflies in my chest have been bottled in their mason jars,
gift-wrapped in the parchment of a handwritten love letter,
and have fulfilled their worldly duties.
As they leave my field of luminescence,
a shiver passes up my spinal cord.
Night’s opacity slithers, ever hungry,
and I realise the lantern in my ribcage is flickering, faltering.
My breath now mists the air.

In this solitary blackness I seem a blazing torch,
the lighthouse leading others home.
But I am not a glaring beacon.
I am not the candlelight of Mass.
I am not even the whole matchbook.
I am just one, single, match
burned slow, guiding and warming the coldest of lost souls.
Now, unable to light my own way home,
the fireflies tucked in bedside drawers,
I tremble, afraid of the dark,
and am extinguished.

There is such a thing as destiny, and mine is this:
I was light down to my core,
and my soul does not know how not to be.