Bad memories are easier to remember
our happiness kept in a cage of forgetfulness
the deadly deficit
the treasure is in the darkness
follow the sound of children laughing
And adults chattering
in a simple field with grass uncut
let free the butterflies in my stomach
before it explodes.
But the night faded
the entrance sealed from ground to heaven
the sound of human liveliness
of people unseen
in front of the iron gate
with butterflies in my stomach
Hand reached out and climbed the bars
Chipped away muscles and peculiar bones
to fit through the diamond holes
to let free of the butterflies
in the exclusive amusement park
I can’t see the ground now
all I see is the white clouds
If I fall, would it be soft?
The Conscious Hour 