words

i have expired to the waiting form of a caterpillar,
embossed in this silken repose
i await each day on tiny strands of hair,
caressing the limbs upon which i tread
with thread-like patience
in a pre-determined glide toward full bloom.

i sleep with a tactile nonchalance,
breathing deep the evening hours of this life,
this stage performed at medium capacity
awaiting some greater circumstance,
something with wings and color of a nature
only gods could produce.

tethered to the promise of flight,
of leaving this branch with utter disregard
and sailing on the winds of hope,
alive for as long as this breath can carry,
born to consume life like a vengeful titan
until i find a moment of peaceful recollect
upon which to anchor.

-S.C. Martinez