Bug eyed

My lenses absorb the light we are submerged in,

The shapes are in nebulous but I feel their movement. 

My ommatidia allow a perception beyond paroxysm,

But you don’t seem to trust my bug eyes.

Did you ever think maybe those lights were blinding you? 

Forgetting yourself as soon as you swung,

Tangling your net.

Butterflies are legally blind did you know that? 

We can wait and watch the lights for awhile,

We don’t have to shed our skin.

We don’t have to glide away.

The stop sign will still be there tomorrow.

I’m worried no one will know how to speak to me now, 

To coerce my voice the toll was your name.

They got to know me by getting to know you.

False prophets, blurs of illumination,

I know it is hard to find your place again.

Far off course, the well seems dry,

But we can find supply in the cracks of the sky.

The pier is on fire but my hands remain cold, 

We have gotten lost many times before.

The compass, mystified by the magnitude of the moon, 

I hope it’s nice and warm inside of your cocoon.