chrysalis
I moan and groan
I’ve grown morose;
Grief buries me
The seams are sewn.
I’ve grown morose
A flat ache tone
Is all I own.
Grief buries me:
A deadly zone-
A clone alone am I.
The seams are sewn
I’m held within
“Til weave with God is grown.
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 
Oct 08, 2012 @ 20:37:09
Jeanne. I’m always amazed at the gold seam on these chrysili. How does that happen?
Sent from my iPhone Joy Acey http://www.poetryforkidsjoy.blogspot.com
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Oct 09, 2012 @ 09:40:55
Dear Joy:
You’re right: a gold seam, a branding spectacular for the interior life!
Well we had a great swap: You gave me Surple and I gave you the pruning of syllables.
The tool metaphor for the animal made me search and find my “How Things Work” book. What fun I had with fulcrums and balancing elephants.
Jeanne
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