The Kiss of the Chrysalis

Final poem for tonight...I think!

The Kiss of the Chrysalis

The kiss of the chrysalis is upon me now,
bitter brickle tickles of something I forgot.
The final grains spiral and fall, as sentries bow:
I am released, again, to spin like musket shot
fired in the dark, but inspired by instinct
that knows the sound of pounding feet is an omen
not to be ignored as Polyphemus had blinked
and missed the fist of fate aimed at his eye, the men
not willing to settle for a kettle of stew
as a watery grave of savory penance.
Pride, a bride to consequence, oaths are now so new
you can see them wet in the moonlight, the sentence
is life. Guilt washed away with karma for a kiss,
burdens set aside with faint fear of honest bliss.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

In appreciation of advice to accept this joy and lay aside my pain. It will be hard, but I won't be alone. For once.