How Butterflies Are Made

Upon the land, where growing life grows (quite unstoppable) Such conviction to bloom for the cool waters and seek the sun's solace.... In the sprouting neath the frozen floor, to even live but a portion! flown through the waves of life, fluttering to what end? So easily taken upon the wind, the thorn which pierces.... the lovely of speckled nuances, winged, so gentle..... surrenders with soft grace to death; But its brief beauty endures, for angels blow their speckles from their lips, like floating leaves.... though they are alive, Long enough to kiss tiny flowers, and perch upon their crowns flapping little wings of love, they float the air ---- whims of the wind.... Dance as some uncertain notes some lingering coda fluffs, reckless first-leg-babes (stumpy puppy legs) Begging God for more time.... (to show off His speckled tears)