[Untitled]

Not far from the whirling white chaos,
A stream of life and the necessity there in
Flowed so gracefully it could have been one
Ever-changing body, if not for its
Involuntary veers and divides.
Divides which, if not for their mediocrity and smooth rounds,
Would surely have inhibited the flow’s progression.
And as a long, gnarled arm stretched out from
The muddy foundation of it all (and all of us)
Only its most assiduous children clung to their roots
And twittered like orange and yellow butterflies
In the wind, blowing soft and sweet.