Awake beauty from naked rest

the great temple bell,

When stopped from flight and sleeping,

– like the butterflies await

Morning sun’s heat.

To wake the beautiful,

Reclining in naked rest,

A child enters and screams

in thundercloud form;

Like a ship in tempest,

On driven, she know not where,

The beauty and the child

Embrace and ride the storm;

Aware only of a far unfamiliar shore,

Of dark cold waters,

Even after they have fallen,

the image remains in their mind,

– storm clouds and butterflies.

Red flowers outside the window,

– Eastward the moon,

westward the hint of rising sun.

In time the nurse will appear,

as raved as a vagabond,

they now step away

under barbed wire sway,

to the beat of the eternal drum.