Look into my eye..
What do you see?
A fluttering of wings
upon a social butterfly?
Or maybe but
a momentary glimpse..
of future family?

Or must the image
in thy heart’s eye
get much clearer..
before the moment
comes
when you may
finally believe it?
Or do you rather see
a face upon the head..
of gray and wicked
wolfish evil,
instead?

There’s no correct
or proper answer
to this question..
for, the inkblot
merely is a mirror..
held up
to the thoughts
that you already
think.

One truth
is certain though..
The Tempest
forms upon
a space-time
coordinate
that’s far removed..
from where
The Butterfly may
flap its wings.