come with me

On the radio while in the car the other day, they (either 5fm or 947) were doing that feature where they let one business rep’ call in and have just a few short seconds to do a promo shout-out about their offering.

The guy who got to, spoke about The Butterfly Foundation, and explained its basic premise as a forum where people who have some time and a shoulder to lend, can give that to someone else who is having a rough time and needs one to lean on.


So simple… and so seldom celebrated as sought.

It moved me to write and make this:

when down days
make meaningless of the crown days
and the plentiful spites look like that many in a view over some city’s night lights

but what’s remarkable isn’t the sparkle
and the boulder is stubborn when you’d really just be loving
a shoulder
to rest on
to not be tested from
and while all of this is easier to know than to speak of
or even if to hear yourself say it
out loud

as if you’d feel deserving of any hearing
even if you found the moment to ask

irony isn’t that it’s something dark you need to wake up from
because for all you can remember
is no time recent enough when your eyes weren’t stuck in too-wide open

still, open can be broken

what pains
I wonder
preempted Mark Twain to say:
“The best way to cheer yourself up is to try cheer someone else up.”


if clarity was like gravity
seeking it
beseeching it
guessing if the lesson is anywhere soon to impress in

when chaos theory transforms the dreary
because the smallest change
makes for the tallest rearrange
of the everything that looks so strange
like it’s all something from outside
with a chalice-malice that insists on deride
until from somewhere cocoon
comes a hand like medicine spoon
and says:

stop doing that stride
get off that ride
that you never even bought a ticket for 

and there from the ledge of danger
your perspective is rearranged by a stranger
who replaces boulder with a shoulder
and says without words:

come with me 
leave your swords 
their rusty will just get dusty, anyway 
in the city we’re off to build 
our guild 
and the rights to your smiles 
will be the lights that shine for miles 
and dreary-teary will be gone from stronger
the new (from old) you 
and a little chaos theory will flap a ripple through the breeze 
so that your gauntlet reinvents that grey
with a forest of green that is bigger than the Milky Way 
and when you’re ready
you’ll be the steady 
that rearranges a boulder with your shoulder 
for someone who needs you to show them how to see 
when you say without words:

come with me 


© Dylan Balkind 


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