The Muse and The Monarch

He's been absent for some time now Lost somewhere between Hurt and Heaven A contradictory uni(verse) In a pre-Genesis emptiness waiting on God to say "LET THERE BE WRITE" His mind . . . A labyrinth of verse filled cocooned caterpillars Whose dream is only to awaken with metaphor wings . . Fly... And land on a loose leaf His heart... Hardened, broken, blackened, but still beating Only the rhythm has changed since "She" left. What once was a love life giving instrument Is now more like area 51 No sign of life, love is alien . . . And all who try to enter are shot down before they can even get close His spirit... Hasn't worked out in a while So it's gotten kind of weak His hands... Miss the relationship they had with pen & pad And the magic they would create when they would procreate And give birth to verse in oxymoronical origami orgies His thoughts... Are like a slave revolt, Like a civil rights movement . . . Dying to be free His eyes... Are an angry hurricane when he blinks... Louisiana levees for lids His stare is the coldest winter And if you peak past the windows to his soul you'll find the perfect storm His soul... Is an egyptian mummy Old, bandaged, bruised, and battered With an empty sarcophagus for a chest A walking tomb . . . Grave robbers stole his treasure Heiroglyphs read: "FULL OF EMPTINESS" He's been absent for some time now Lost and living life(less) ever since "She" left Residing somewhere between Hurt and Heaven A contradictory uni(verse) If anyone finds his love, "She" The muse Tell her where she can find him She knows the place And let her know That the metaphorical metamorphosis of the cocooned caterpillar is complete And that verse filled monarchs are ready To fly. -Ox