Metamorphosis

 

We are dreamlike, entranced yet sleepless 

while the gods slumber, metamorphosing 

within our luminous cocoons, quiescent 

though not unmoved. Now discontent 

as net-veiled chrysalides of cyberspace, 

stirred by the warm awakening of desire, 

we await the furtive kiss of alchemy 

to render the timeless mystery entire. 

Once unfurling, faltering, fledgeless nymphs, 

now digital-dancers, imago-gypsies, 

flirting in the play of light and shadow, 

tapping worded wings upon the electron screen. 

Suppose out of instinct or innocence we seek 

soulmates in these galleries of hieroglyph and glass, 

where the exquisite longings and sufferings of love 

are laid bare in transfigured exhibition of our hearts, 

we who crave the secrets of serendipitous beauty, 

as elusive as the avatars of our dreams.