Sunday, August 11, 2013

The Butterfly

Pick a flower and it will die, sitting it a vase. It will shrivel until you wash it down the sink.

Watch waves crash along the shore for as long as it takes to understand that a wave is not a singular thing.

Bottle me up, cage me, find my essence and concentrate it. Then, if I had wings, I'd lose my flight.

Do not ask a monarch to pin itself to a cork board for observation. Breed it to forget the sun.

I am the cat who sits at the door but cannot decide to go in or go out.

Do not command a dog not to bark, a horse not to run, a man not to cry.

The wind cries, the ocean weeps, the mountain roars rage and revenge.

I can tell you my secrets but not their meaning.

If I had wings I would not be afraid of falling.

My courage was pinned to a cork board.

No comments:

Post a Comment