Butterfly Messiah

Fluttering in from the horizon, Wing on wing, from the Spring of time, They come, a gossamer horde Semaphoring in the endless day, They meet, mate, and provide Provender for their young, And then they die.

But now from this Another wave is generated to move on. What then? Well, they believe That crumpling one brood on another brood, An infinity of butterflies will coax An archibutterfly to come, And lead them from a world of birds and wasps, And other accomplices of woe To where the whole taxonomy will bask, Subjected to eternal shine, And all the vacuum of the past, The hurried haste, the glut of spawn Is justified.

So what are we to say? Well, birds and butterflies and men Form an economy of souls At whom we laugh at our own peril; And the winged hieroglyphs Provide a puzzle which Our whole life is too short to puzzle on.

So here we end, all tantalized At the solution of the butterflies.