All Gone

The butterflies have all gone,
dried cocoons rattle in fading light.
There is a knot at the heart.

A pony prances in front of a narrow gate.
She's not sure she'll be able to make it through.
The alpine lake is twilight blue.

Where are we? The cave?
Is this a projection?
What will make it past the door?

It is unfashionable these days to believe
anything will after the power switches off.

In the quiet beyond the senses
you are there across the river.
You are the river, the reflected sky,
the bird circling above.

So am I.
Blinded, I see we are
the pony, the gate, the lake,
a container for all change,
all movement that cannot be contained.

Your long legs stretch out,
a cat in your lap beyond time, purrs.
You hum as wild bees hum,
heavy with pollen heading home.