Rise Above It

Masked Butterflies Hanging by two strings like Leonardo DaVinci’s captivating Image of man, I ponder past times. Holding for the dearest, To the thought of the world below my feet, reigning so high, I can imagine the brightest of futures. For months I hold still In a vulnerable but bearable position with a fantastic view of The world over both shoulders. To my right, a vision, a dream, A light, a heaven on Earth, a life of happiness and strength, but A long road to lead to such success. To my left, a small, cozy, Peaceful, and easily accessible village, with rivers gently Flowing downstream. On my shoulder rests a butterfly, or so I thought based on What I perceive as wings and how pleasantly he flaps. He sits Comfortably, where my vision is weak. Patiently, he listens to The cries of my choices and observes the desperation of my Physical hold to keep a firm grip on both strings. Acknowledging The facts related to each view, he quenches my mind with the best Outcomes while nourishing my thirst, since my hands are So blindly tied. Swiftly, I find myself swinging to the heaven I always wanted. Glancing back, I see that the string in my left hand was slowly Unraveled by the jagged teeth of the moth, whom I thought Was a butterfly. Someone I once called my friend, I now Notice he only has one wing. Inhibited, he could not fly to The local but non-prosperous village that lay directly to my left. He smiles in deceit, as he took my string without realizing that I am on my way to the heaven I will call my home.