Stapled butterfly turns on a wheel
Cycle of rebirth confirmed as real
Mixed in stereo, coloured as a friend
An eye for the arts, cautiously he'll blend
Flights of morrow, that grind on a road
To a pace that only pre-history slowed
Flight denied, along for the ride
The realm of nature; on his side
Nervous, he spins in sixes and sevens
Settles in a corner, up high in the heavens
Watches the spokes that continue to turn
Ponders if the ape in the mirror............ will ever learn?
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