Short Lived Butterflies And Snails Poem by Mark Heathcote

A snail's life isn't the home he carries on his back
Life's not the marrowfat in his boneless backpack.
Don't worry about that trail of destruction them lies
Or about the destinies of short-lived butterflies.

Carry on and simply ask questions unanswered
"Don't you have words of hope for the departing? "
At life's end should I whisper "let us be friends? "
And tell you truthfully, I don't own a farthing.

Life's perfumed infusions carry on in a dream
Together these inclusions mingled of sun and wind
Go on wherever we're blown apart at the seems
Mountain-top or valleys below, we'll not rescind.

Wherever our ashes our silts, wash downstream.
Our chariot wheel wheels on… wheels on, on-wing,
And life's charioteer shouts loud be true be strong!
I'm all out of fear, I'm all out of religion, but still, I sing.

I'm no longer coiled-up in their barbwire!
If, you stepped on my shell. I'll not break or repel
I might just be angelic for a short momentary spell
If, you were to take me into hand be my quantifier.

I might just be angelic for a short-lived while
Living beyond my means; your friend till the end.
I might just be the one to outlive those you'd revile
Short-lived butterflies now I even might transcend.