Maybe it moves in the dark
Yet say it is not so blind This thing of utter tenderness
Thrashing around in innocence
Seeking the company of fools
But it is maybe powerless
Has no appetite for change
Seeking solace in unchanging days
Though implosion brings them anyway
It is ever the way of people
Whether we would will it or not
They have no foresight only a kindness
Empathy imagined within superiority
It is but the hopes of a butterfly
Short-lived as summer before frost comes
And no warmth is left to let it survive