There are muddled lives that never
manage to undo those knots formed
even earlier than the umbilical cord.
Sad, rather unlucky lives, for which
the wheel never seems to turn. Angry
lives, shaky lives, short, broken lives,
that in turn gave life though.
Once I saw a yellow butterfly seal its
fate, flying and uncertainly fluttering
its wings just a few centimetres from
the asphalt, scorching in the Summer;
I thought risk is exciting, though free
flight is less insidious.
The yellow of the butterfly’s wings,
stark against the black, scorching of
asphalt, switched on in my mind
the full, indelible awareness of the
infinite, divine quantity of beauty
that exists in the world.
Fulmicotone was noticed by Mr. Edoardo Fainello, Director of Piccolo Teatro Dante (a theatrical academy near Venice, Italy), and is being made into a play. Fulmicotone, the play, will soon begin touring in Italy.