Most of the world
Is filled with the
Most beautiful
Creatures,
But most of
Those
Creatures
Are covered
In muddy muck.
Feet stuck
In the suction
Of black earth
And water,
All the ingredients
For life,
But
Today it keeps
The beauty
Covered and stuck,
All shoes, left
Back there,
Lost to the bottom
Clothes were
Taken off long
Ago, because they
Became to heavy
Holding on to
More of the
Mud than any
Of the beautiful
Creatures
Wanted to carry.
After a while
The distinction
Between mud
And muck,
Between earth
And creatures
Moving about
In the muck
Becomes
Indistinguishable.
Once upon a time
The ground was
Solid,
Firm beneath
The feet
Of the Beautiful
Creatures,
Pounded hard
By the travels
Of Purpose,
Covered by
The clothes
Of status
And hierarchy,
Flitting this way
And that,
Until…
One by one
The things
The beautiful
Creatures thought,
About themselves,
Each other,
The world,
And the Road
Of Purpose
Turned to
A journey
Into an unfulfilling
Oblivion off a cliff,
Into the unknown.
The Beautiful Creatures
Questioned everything
And got lost
Inside themselves
And began to
Cry and wail,
Turning the ground
Beneath them to
Mud by the
Mixing of
Earth and tears
Until it was
So contagious
That the Beautiful
Creatures
Could no longer
Remember
The time before.
Then the Divine
Saddened by the struggle
Of the Beautiful Creatures,
Began to cry…
And the rain fell,
And the creatures
Wailed even more
The woes of
Their collective
Troubles,
But the rain
Washed away
The muck
Stuck
To the upper
Part of the
Creatures,
Making them
Clean in the process
Until they looked to see higher
Ground to climb
Up and away
From the muck
To let
The rain
Wash away
It
From the rest
Of them…
The road could
Then be seen
From a new
Perspective,
For it did
Indeed
Lead off a cliff…
Now naked
And clean,
The Beautiful Creatures
Could then
See where
The road of
Purpose lead.
For the first
Time the Creatures
Could see,
Free from
Clothes that
Hide and mask
Free from
Mud and muck
That they
Had wings,
Why was
Why they were
Called
Beautiful Creatures.
