the torch carried

a poem by Dale Costello, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

A butterfly thin, wing, beats at my heart, soul, where the blood begins
to dream, delirious, in the stream, life, as it cures of deadly strife, hell-bent
deliverance, I can't, but by chance, conceive achievement, moths
as they be, flying too close to the fire, strangers of desire, and yet
compelled, by nights yet felled, horses unbroken, words, as they're spoken
with breath the same, as the four winds through sand, light, fears command
sound as it breaks, for eternitys sake, through mortal coil, human foil
time, as it bleeds, feeds, on but dream and needs, speciality field, sewn
grown into science, blinded again, that moth still fluttering, that butterfly
wing, still swimming, in a soul, just dimming, the torch enough, to see...

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