An odd little poem...

And on the subject of the last post (somewhat) here's an odd little poem from the wonderful Emily Dickinson and a certainly very beautiful but ethically questionable painting/collage from Damian Hirst.

MY cocoon tightens, colours tease,

I ’m feeling for the air;

A dim capacity for wings

Degrades the dress I wear.

A power of butterfly must be

The aptitude to fly,

Meadows of majesty concedes

And easy sweeps of sky.

So I must baffle at the hint

And cipher at the sign,

And make much blunder, if at last

I take the clew divine.