The Caterpillars

What are they? They who linger in the bright sunshine and do not speak? Sometimes I wonder if they will creep up to the surface and smile. You have seen their smiles, have you not? They call it happiness. They cannot be seen unless you have the willingness to have the Sight. They are not visible- but hallucinations. Hallucinations that are delusional.

Sometimes you think they look like caterpillars, crawling and etching their way through everything and then, in their magnificent colours, you see them as an emotion. An emotion that shapes how you see everything; an emotion that makes everything worth seeing; an emotion which is just a smile hiding in your blind spot.

They wriggle and twist, feeding on the dances of another dancer. They do not make the steps. They are only those who carry the actions of yourself. They slip across the sunny days, spreading their energy to those who dare to observe. They hide in the corners of mouths and eyes in those who want to carry them.

Right now, they are only here because I want them to be. In shape of hot cinnamon tea, they smile at me; I am content.