Left in the Dust, Together Alone
Jennie O.

I wonder why the pink-dressed girl dances
In that great butterfly tree doused in light
With paint-faced jesters circling,
Chanting an everlasting song at night

Of solemnity at knowing she is the one
Who will fly away from this place,
Away from the colors of loneliness,
That the bright moon will become her face.

She will leave the jesters behind to roam,
To try and find some way to change
The gloomy, leafless trees, and the pain
Of their beautiless land of strange.

At that, the stars fall down from the sky
And land all around her like works of fire,
Bringing with it the grand explosion
That sends her into the life higher.

Into a pile of a thousand tiny pieces,
Killing the dreams of the jesters all,
Without a notion, a thought that it could,
The butterfly tree crumbles and falls.
And the pink-dressed girl sprouts her wings
And soars through the sky in bliss
While we stand in awe, left in the dust
As we recognize the sight of this.