I craved for all to change. The school
— the stage of being a caterpillar thing —
Has left me with my expectations full
Of transforming in a gilded butterfly
With the ability to sing.
Oh, student time, collegial time,
The time to unify in mutual pupa;
More logs are thrown in youthful fire —
Poetic gyre keeps living;
But through the turmoil? Will it?
Thus we were told in year twenty twenty
(In the time of flowers blooming, most alive):
Deunify! Stay in domestic hives!
The distance will do nothing!
And we obeyed it.
Conserved mollies in social distance’s solitude
While the Reaper reaps our years of thriving’s joy,
Balancing all this youthful blossom’s magnitude
By isolation. Canning.
And what I now foresee:
Spread chrysalides in a sunless sea
Hatching all indifferently
In discolored floating butterflyish things
Groaning. Trying to sing.
Quarantined metamorphosis
© Copyright: Гиорги Каркузашвили, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121062605995
Свидетельство о публикации №121062605995
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