Every Little Thing

butterflies and moths

there are no words to tell you that every little thing will be alright

i mean i just said it but they're just words

puffs of air and the squeezing of vocal chords at just the right time to make

tuba squeaks and fluted squawks

assuming the throat has the right sort of

air

the sqeaks are squaking there squokes in

no, i'm just trying to forge a spell to capture the essence

that every little thing is gonna be alright because

well

eventually it will be you can dissect moments

and dissect the dissections until you get

to a single frame of film and that frame won't tell you

that the caterpillar became a butterfly or a moth or became anything

it's just a place to start from to dream from to hope from

i can dissect that frame into bits and loose the

picture of the caterpillar completely it will just be bits

of film-stuff celluloid brittle full of

atoms

waiting around like

atoms do ageless

and sitting in a perpetual state of probabilistic wonder

tell me what to do and i'll

do it says the atoms or i'll just sit

here that's fine too i've been sitting here before

you invented the words for years i'll be sitting here after that

word years is forgotten

but the atoms never get to know that once they were a picture

of

a

caterpillar that might one day turn into a butterfly

or

a

moth

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PH — from stePHen: