Bikram Singh Poet I do not know?

Butterfly Lured By Frogs

Butterfly
Beautiful butterfly
of the open sky,
colourful, dazzling—
queen of mountains.

Butterfly,
princess of valleys,
of meadows and flower beds.
Her dream was to fly
higher and higher,
to touch the horizon.

Strange—
so strange.
Beautiful butterfly
of the endless sky
was lured by a frog,
a frog of a dead pond,
spotted, cold, and hollow.

One who had never seen the wide world
or its wondrous
diversity.
Living on black water,
feeding on decay and worms.

But why? (She got lured & trapped)

Because the frog spoke sweetly.
Because he praised her wings
while envying her flight.
Because no one warned her
that not every voice that admires
wishes you well.

Her elders taught her
about the beauty of the world—
but not its shadows.
They taught her how to fly,
but not how some creatures
wait below,
pretending to be friends
until wings are broken.

So listen, butterfly—
the sky is yours,
but look before you descend.

Not every pond is a mirror,
not every smile is truth,
and not every hand that calls you down
will let you rise again.

Fly free,
but fly aware.

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