From the album Butterfly
I saw a butterfly lift in the wind, drift for a while and come back again. Sweet,
aching labor, hour after hour, tasting the nectar of every flower. Over and over, she plays the game, so many times but it’s always the same. Poor Butterfly.
I saw a web in the limbs of a tree, the whole deadly trap covered in leaves. Pale, bloodless mourning cloak waits for the kill, cold, empty spindle, patient and still.
Over and over, she plays the game so many times but it’s always the same. Over and over, they do the dance. They move at the whim of fate, of chance.
But if only some long lost God at last could come along and erase all the past!
Over and over, she plays the game. Over and over, they do the dance. Over and over, the wind beating wild and the sweet scented breeze blows on and on.
Natalie Merchant / Indian Love Bride ©2017