Butterflies Fly Free
Softly they rise on gilded air,
Wings like petals, light and fair—
Drifting through the morning’s gleam,
Dancing in a waking dream.
No map they need, no compass true,
Butterflies fly free and few
Know the weight of unseen strings,
Or how silence sings of wings.
Born from stillness, deep and tight,
In a chrysalis of night—
They emerged with breathless grace,
Time and time, they won the race.
No crown, yet regal in their flight,
Clothed in colors spun from light
Sapphire, amber, flame, and rose—
Whispers where the wild wind goes.
They sip from blooms that nod and sigh,
Beneath the vast and boundless sky
No hurry marks their fragile way—
They drift as if to say
"We carry no name, no debt, no plea,
No past that chains, no fixed decree.
We are the moment, bright and brief—
Butterflies fly free. Fly free. And believe."
So let us learn from those who soar
On zephyrs we can’t even feel—
That freedom isn't loud or grand,
But a quiet choice to simply be—
To lift, to trust, to drift, to see—
And like the butterfly, release
The weight we thought would bring us peace.
For in the air, where grace takes wing,
The truest souls learn how to sing—
Not with voice, but with the art
Of beating wings against the heart.
Yes—
Butterflies fly free.
And so, at last, might we.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: January 22nd, 2026 05:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Soman Ragavan, Tristan Robert Lange, Paul Bell
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Comments5
It is not just external beauty but that inside that allows us to fly free. It seems that the beauty of the butterfly is a metaphor for the beauty of the soul in each of us. The air that is there for all is free as well and can lift our wings without restriction. A lovely poem that has many details that reinforce this theme. Nicely done my friend.
Thank you, Soren. I appreciate you stopping by to read my poem, but most of all, I appreciate your feedback.
You are most welcome Friendship
"We are the moment, bright and brief...." This sums up the life of the butterfly. A fragile, delicate life, brief as well. It spreads the spendours of its wings. In its brief life it has to do what it must do.
Thank you, Soman. I appreciate you stopping by to read my poem, but most of all, I appreciate your feedback.
Certainly when I was a child, butterflies were abundant, not anymore sadly.
Such a gracious creature, one of natures miracles.
Thank you, Paul. I appreciate you stopping by to read my poem, but most of all, I appreciate your feedback.
Dearest friend, and I feel honored to call you that, reading this feels like permission. Permission to loosen the grip, to stop measuring worth by weight carried. That idea of release as wisdom resonates deeply with me. Thank you for that, Friendship. Well done, indeed, and a fave. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
My dearest Tristan, thank you for encouraging me every day to continue writing; right now, it means a lot to me. And most of all, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for understanding what I'm saying without judgment. Thank you, my friend, ❤️
A fine write F. I must fly like a butterfly, not like The Birdman, cos I keep crashing! lol.
Thank you, Orchidee. I appreciate you stopping by to read my poem, but most of all, I appreciate your feedback.
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