warmed in morning sun - the butterfly slowly unfolds, briefly helpless
Vulnerable Moment [Haiku]
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A Personal Anthology by Jorge Luis BorgesThere are cities where the veneer of normality is so thin that it feels as though one could fall through at any time, plummeting into the true city. Varanasi, New Orleans, Tokyo after midnight, parts of Prague & Bangkok I can't say what's beneath the veneer, but, oh, does part of me want to know! These are places better visited than lived in, for their magic cannot survive extended proximity.
A sprout sprouts from the dirt. Above, dead leaves keep the tender leaf cool & moist. Below, worms churn the soil -- churn and aerate. Fungi decompose the lowest leaf layer, turning it into nutrients for the sprout. I'm tapped into all that magic from afar: -creation & destruction, feeding into each other -energy becoming life, life becoming matter, matter that - in turn - becomes energy. If there's a forest, I am the forest. I'm life and energy & death and decomposition... all in due time.
Loomed over by Howrah Bridge -- that big steel beast -- the flower market is a world of color, marigold garlands in orange, yellow, and alternating orange & yellow. The odd stack of roses: white, pink, and -- of course -- red. White garlands with red accents. Greenery. Loose flower heads in piles, pecked at by tiny birds that bounce and flit. Rose petals at risk of being carried by a gust into a swirling cyclone of romance -- only to be left littered on the muddy pavement.