Axolotl, the neotenic mole salamander
The native of just a few lakes in Mexico
The creature lies in dark and silent lake
A smiling ghost with wide unblinking eyes.
Feathered gills like coral around its head
Walks on floor where ancient spirits tread
While everyone ages losing youth’s charm
But he keeps grace of childhood’s soft form.
No scar can mar skin, no wound can harm
He mends his heart, keeps life-blood warm
Even if a limb is lost, it will keep growing
The master of the flesh, the healer’s king.
In shades of pearl, rose, or morning dew
He awaits what transformation can anew
A silent aquatic daemon away from light
Who holds spark of the life against the night.
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