‎When the end is the beginning

I may go out chasing rabbits,

hopping just like one of them;

a fluffy tail may even grow,

but I end alone in a cold earth hole.

I don’t pretend to know it all

My tears are salty, my fear is purple;

I come and go with all the flow,

See salt and grapes in every soul.

I run from life to find it dancing,

Sleeping besides me, and in my spoon.

I stop breathing so I can see,

What has become of the old me.

I see butterflies and build a pair of wings

To blend among them at least I try;

A couple days is not that short

If no one knows I cannot fly.