The Life Fragile


In a cocoon the young girl lies dreaming
Deep in her mind Arachne is weaving
Pale silver threads that might become wings
So long as the girl keeps a hold on her dreams

Some girls sleep easy and safe in their mind
They conjure up laughter, gentle and kind
Knowing that soon they will wake and emerge
As beautiful butterflies, queens of the world

This girl she struggles to keep her eyes closed
Knowing she’s fragile, and hanging exposed
Out on a branch, rattled by storms
Flooded with fear that she will not transform

In its cocoon a youngling must dream
When you first learn this, how moving it seems
If she stops dreaming she loses her breath
Her wings do not grow, she gives way to death

But this girl has nightscapes riding the mare
But dark dreams still count, so do not despair
Arachne keeps working, her thread starts to tangle
The wings become twisted, all sharp ends and angles

The queens come on time, emerging with flare
Wings swift and stunning, they take to the air
Long after they’re gone, the darkling starts fighting
To cut through the pupa state turning and writhing

She finally escapes but her wings wont unfold
The wind whispers urgently, go forth, be bold
She unfurls like a night-flower, bathed by the moon
But wishes to curl in a second cocoon

Fragile and terrified, struggling to cope
She flies in mad chaos, a riot of hope
Wings red as blood, dark old and bright new
She settles on roses and drinks up their dew


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