Milkweeds
Unlike most, it was during childhood
That I realized we are all lost.
Although we follow a well-worn path
There guarantees no destination.
We, like caterpillars know nothing
Of our later metamorphosis.
The butterfly knows nothing but
The trail on which it walks:
Bittersweet
~ JD Campbell
YOU ARE READING
Nightmares of an Insomniac
PoetryA collections of poems for those of us who love, live, cry, and play, even while the world is asleep.
