Why I Want to Know Your Dreaming
Why I want to know your dreaming is whyI want to touch the silky scaled wingof Butterfly
and know the softness and the shapeof gracefrom the inside outand hold your fluttering in my heartfor just a moment, or foreverwhichever lasts longerand discover what it is to fly, or land,or sink or die from your particular cocoon,or rose,or grave.
The common fear (and fear is so common)is that after one touches a butterfly's wingthe oil from our hands will contaminateor weigh it down,and make us executioner.It is truewe must respect the faery powderthat gives her flight.But Peter Pan tickled Tinkerbelland this only made her fly higher,and sometimes landings are in order,and maybe evenexecutions.
I do not want to pin your wings down like a scienceproject or taint your floating parchment for arts'sake or keep you in a looking-glasscage.
I want simply to taste the sweetnessand the bitterness at the mouth of your blossomingand land solidly in the middle of the partingof your red seasand know the seeing of your big black eyesand to feel the feeling that vibrates out of your huge antenna;to learn the secrets of the turning and the tuningand the cravings of moths burningin the sacred flames profane with Erosand to fly away fly away fly away into the baby bluetransformed and transformingstagnant waters into Blood red winethirsty still thirsty still for all the nectaryou and I have yet to swallowat the top of a spiraling towerunder a young moon.
This is why I want to enter chrysalis, togetherAnd fall asleep in our Asclepion caves of make-believesand weep and hope impatientlypatientfor the great demiseof Caterpillar,and maybe, may be even Butterflyso we can reincarnateinto dream.
