My heart is a brimstone butterfly
That’s born a day to marry on the moor;
It hasn’t learned enough to utter, Why,
It nothing knows of Then and Evermore.
My mind’s a frighted moth under the lights
And stains its every motion with a spore.
Its dust beneath the lamplight drifts at nights.
Its only heart’s concern is Evermore.
Both flutter, fleetingly, and so they never
Fly together, though the same’s what both are for:
Between them love is lost among the heather
And under lamplights, flightless evermore.
Inspired by the sheer brilliance of Wuthering Heights and the more intellectual, urban feel of Prufrock, this sonnet-to-the-self is yet another poem dredged up from the back-catalogue. The dichotomy between heart and mind, between delight and caution, is a crucial theme which is reflected both in the symbolism of butterfly-or-moth, and moor-or-town. As ever, alliteration and internal rhyme for the win. One day I might set up a competition to find all of the internal rhyming patterns in one of my poems. Winner gets a bottle of bubbly and my eternal respect.