We'll Beat Our Wings Against The Weather Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

What shapes and frames us
Cannot contain us
For we are like butterflies on a maiden flight.
Leaping into the vast unknown
Refracting back our eternal effervescent light
Like ragtime music played on an old gramophone
We'll beat our wings against the weather.
And envision a brighter future a million times better.

And the rain, it can fall; it can bounce right back.
Because I'm telling you today, I'm feeling glad.
Nothing's going to make me sad.
Nothing's going to make me mad.
Nothing's going to change or dampen my mood.
Nothing's going to take my plate of food.
Nothing's going to make a fool out of me today.
Today I'm going to make rainbows my play.
And sing all those blues away; sing them far away.

What shapes and frames us
Cannot contain us
We are a butterfly, every one of us.
Today, my cocoon is breaking open.
And my wings are baking dry in a sunny breeze.
And any second now, I'm going to fly.
So don't you tell me how low or how high
Because any second now, my hungry fat caterpillar
I am destined to soar weightless beyond that yonder blue sky.