from Atlanta to San Francisco
i held my breath
waiting for the latent champion inside to
split this hide, burst forth
like Athena from Zeus,
in the glory of triumph...

from morning to eve,
the larva slept in hopes of awakening a butterfly,
sought that elusive metamorphosis
of awkward youth to dynamic beauty
the mysterious swelling of sentiment as in
the sound of the Kyrie in the Notre Dame...

from thursday to friday
i sit by the harbor with the Pathétique
and contemplate great expectations.
To start again-- spontaneous generation, for
some scars run deeper than this cocoon--
i want to believe in me...

08/22/2008

Posted on 08/22/2008
Copyright © 2025 Cassandra Leigh