Wind Whisperer

Here he is, a Whisperer of some sort,
Where the winds of my youth
Calm into rhythmic waves.

In and out of our coastal hearts,
Breezing upon my earth
To comfort piercing quakes.

There, a magical force of some sort,
Where the winds of his realm
Heal my wounded cracks.

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Sweet Royalty

Youthful beauty of an elevating butterfly
Writes a departing ode to the long past,
To her previous self, painting smiles to last,
And as she steps into the space among stars,
She realises the beauty in her freedom,
Blessed I am to see her evolutionary steps,
A natural phenomenon for the unique nobility,
A queen to all her close soul friends – to me,
And I ask for her throne, to stand firm next to,
As she tries to find her crown in colourful books.

Urbanisation of the East

I dig into the graves of the butterflies –
Once soaring over the habitats of men
To share a dancing ritual in a ceremony –
And I find the final jigsaw puzzle piece,
Puzzling my peaceful self as I unearth the truth,
Concrete cremating our buried Mother Nature.