flight of the butterfly, rising free
blessed by the giver
of life, love, and hope
gratefully walking
through warm days and cold
Vibrant, voluptuous, such
brilliance in their hues
The artisans spent countless decades
improving the views
The serpent basks in the warm sun
On the rock high above the valley below
On his face is the smirk of completion
Another soul lost, another forgotten day
There are no true servants, only rubes
Lapses of truth fuel the passionate strains
Lost in an instant of lustful and joyous pain
Servant of the serpent rises from the dust again
So very easy to find solace in the dim
Dark corners of the heart of love forget
Elusive salvation writhing in desire
Comforted by a moment's dark misery