A sign of life the metaphor for very souls
Flitting and giving birth to the thought of flight
Graceful dancer of the garden ballet the
Weakness in your wings it kills me
To watch and not weep for what is lost
What will be lost again and again
What to gain?
The cycle starts anew the lowly inchworm to the leaf
The wind and rain and sun pass ever on
Leaving us behind who cannot fly
Cannot know the lift of your
Delicate gossamer wings
Nor can you carry us with you on your
Cry to heaven the unfairness and no answer sounds
Laugh to Creation the blessing of the transient nature of it all
That we love it so
And let it go
And carry it home
In faithful hearts.
Ah memory, the one trapped butterfly that will never flee.