The Watertower

butterfly from the
water tower
crash lands,
meets me;
hails and greets,
watery echoes of hellos—
urgent news,
matchless mystery,
key of cosmos;
I come from the tower
where there swirls not souls
but sound—potentiality,
uncurling forms of gods,
unspeakable outlines
of their starry essences—
some breathed on me,
watch out!
in moth’s
resurrecting dust
butterfly departs—
I hear their dark
decrees, their sermons,
then silence.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

 

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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