Horn-Rimmed Shadows

"Don't know why I fear butterflies, But I never wanted to kill them, Maybe squash a fair wing and cripple An odd strand of feet, Never end..." Said the horn-rimmed shadow to the sun, And the horizon was bleeding For Night's footsteps didn't feel mercy. She was elsewhere, Chained to the rugged corners of the unruly mind, Silently slumbering in the darkness that never ended. The wind was no good, but only stirring... Stirring the sun, stirring the sky, Stirring the leaves and the butterflies! Naive fliers wandering like impure ecstasy, Wrapped in velvet couture, Off Nature, But the shadow fumed! At why they rippled in water? And curled in disorderliness? Stomped without pain Glided without gain, Always after... The wind was glad, The butterflies should have been too, Since they were only grounded, Only if shadows were stirred too!