A beauty born from trials;
Can our eyes clouded by familiarity
Discern the very image of mystery
As it flies in breath-light bounces?
Do we see our own joy,
Or the intricate mechanics of life?
Little does the human know
Of epic sagas played out
In the strange place called Chrysalis.
Life reborn from death,
Such beauty and horror
Is mystery to us.
That a newborn must claw its way free,
The way fragile wings must bloom,
And how life suspends in danger:
This our eyes don't see.
The churning, yearning needs of life
Take work beyond our knowledge.
Should we be educated?
Is true beauty in the details?
The vivrancy of colours
Come to life in symmetric form,
Or Nature's finest building project:
It's fine art in two complementary ways.
Written for Writer's Cramp
Prompt: "o to your port - to the Trophy Room (you'll find that under the tab community), and find the oldest award (ribbon or plaque), that was awarded for your poem or story. The date under the ribbon or plaque is what counts - for example: my first ribbon is from March 2005.
Find the poem or story. Read it.
Now rewrite it - if your awarded item was a poem - you now write a story, and if your awarded item was a story you now write a poem.
(If you do not have an awarded item, choose the FIRST item you added to your portfolio.)
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