day begins from the rim of night

breaking free from its darkness,

straying far from the bulge of catastrophe

where only words without desire are warm when spoken.

yet a day must have its silence

even as the waterfront clamours for attention.

but when hours begin looping on butterfly wings

magicians fly first class.

today you are a fresh green blade of grass

holding on fast to the ladybird’s feet

till all monsters fly out of existence…

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