The Butterfly: a Freestyle Poem

As I meet it for the first time, 

I am compelled into a deep silence,

For the power and knowledge that follows,

In the wake of the butterfly is astonishing. 

Its strong, gorgeous wings could make even the sun cry, 

Or perhaps even condemn a mighty king into bowing before it. 

The butterfly was like a God walking among peasants, 

A blossomed flower among weeds, 

Its beauty stood out for all the world to see. 

The butterfly’s mind was bright, 

As such a flame,

Its wings could carry it through the most demeaning of storms,

As they were stronger than a lion’s hide. 

Wherever it flew, 

Whenever it flew,

It carried an essence of serenity along with it. 

Whenever I felt a dark cloud hover over me,

The butterfly made it fade away.

The love of the butterfly would always lead to the right path,

The love of the butterfly was a stream that crossed the Earth, 

A stream flowing so far that no creature could ever reach its end.

The butterfly always knew the way, 

Just as the morning sun knew to rise every dawn,

And to fall every dusk. 

The butterfly radiated a power so strong,

So strong that it could stand through the wrath of the world,

Yet not one could name what the power was. 

Not all truly understand the butterfly,

Yet I am sure that if they were to fly the path of the butterfly,

Then they too would feel as I do.

If all were granted the knowledge to understand the butterfly,

Our world would be a kingdom of bliss.

Yet here we stand,

Among the debris and wreckage,

The only escape for those clever enough to fly,

As does the butterfly.

If one truly looks,

There are butterflies hidden all among is, 

If one is granted a keen eye.

The butterfly was always there for me,

No matter the number of mishaps I brought upon.

And yet one evening,

The butterfly was gone.

Instead a melancholy cloud hung in the darkening sky,

A tear crawling down my cheek.

Later, I lifted my weary head,

Facing the moon, 

The majestic queen of the night. 

I then looked to the stars.

I watched wordlessly as their twinkling lights blinked in the night,

As they swam in the black sea called the night sky. 

And I realized something.

Just as the stars hid under a blanket of blue when the morning came,

And reappeared once the moon called for them,

Yet all the while were always truly there,

So was the butterfly.

The butterfly was there,

Whether I could see it or not.

As the sun rose once again,

I realized one more thing. 

With enough love, care, and will to learn,

There can be hundreds of butterflies.

I smiled.

There was now hope on the horizon.

One day we will all fly.