Butterflies have been floating into my everyday life - and dreams - the past week or so. As I was taking a walk along the beach today, I looked down and saw its poor wings held down by the weight of the wet sand. Sadly, it had already died. However, I was thankful I could save it before it was swallowed up by the ocean. Though it died, I think its beauty should be cherished. For having an insanely short average life span of 10 days after flying from its chrysalis, it embodies a limitless adoration of intricacy within its meticulous frailty.
I spoke just a few days before this, saying I wanted to begin collecting butterflies so that I could give them another life they so gracefully deserve.
Here is my humble ode to such beautiful creatures.
Though She Fell
Her Wings Still Glow
Pure in Innocence
Weightless of Love
The Soul with Wings