Fly
Tucked
inside the shadows,
Hidden far from starry light,
That falls in splinters on the ground,
Deep into the night.
Below the
endless canopy,
Melting into sky,
Underneath a punctured globe,
Winking from up high.
She sleeps
inside the heart of it,
Draped in peaceful dark,
Her wings are like a Monarch's,
And her voice is like the Lark.
She sleeps,
becalmed and dreaming
In her fairy-bed cocoon,
Until the liquid sunrise
Asphyxiates the moon
The embers
fall,
And on the leaves below they form a dew,
To drip, like sweetened honey,
From the fairy-bed cocoon.
'Tis morning
now,' she says,
Waking up into the dawn,
The pink and golden glow
Lights the treetops and beyond.
She pierces
through the soft cocoon,
And, in the breach, she stands,
Inspiring the honeyed air
That floats over the land.
She looks
to the horizon,
And opens wide her eye,
'And now it's time to bloom,' she says,
So, up and out now, fly!