They say
a butterfly ***** its wings
in a quiet corner of the world.
and halfway across it,
a storm begins.

But no one tells you
how often
you are the butterfly.

The smile you gave
a stranger
on a day they thought of leaving.
The message you didn’t send.
The one you did.
The fight you started.
The hug you almost didn’t give.

How many lives have you altered
without ever knowing?
How many moments have you shaped
by simply existing,
in the right or wrong place,
at the quietest time?

We chase purpose
like it’s some grand, loud thing,
a legacy,
a title,
a monument with our name on it.

But maybe
you already changed the world
when you held the door open
for someone
who swore no one saw them.
When you stayed.
Or when you left.

What a strange kind of power
to ruin or redeem
with things we barely remember doing.

So move gently,
and with meaning.
Not out of fear,
but reverence.
You never know
who’s standing in the storm
your wings created.

blowing bubbles on my porch
tiny fingers
with chipped purple polish
reach out to grab them
chubby face
surrounded by a halo of knotty curls
laughs in delight
tiny feet
shoved into little pink crocs
dance around in joy
big brown eyes
full of curiosity
admire the bubbles with a pure childlike happiness
that I can only dream of possessing again

I never understood life.

Well, who cares –

Life never understood me either.

People say it is a field,
A lovely field of happiness.
With flowers spread,
Throughout this field.
Skies,
So clear and blue.
The sun,
Shining ever so brightly.
Birds chirping as if it were
The first of spring.
Rabbits hopping around
As if they could go on
For forever and eternity.
As the creatures enjoy,
Enjoy this wonderful place,
For it makes everything
Joyful, exciting, and happy.
A dark cloud has come,
Taken up the rays of sunlight.
With one cloud,
Brings many clouds.
The flowers,
Have now died,
And weeds
Have taken their place.
The skies
Are no longer clear and blue.
The sun
No longer shines with the rays,
The rays from the heavens above,
Instead it rains,
Rains as if it were meant to do so.
Birds no longer chirp as if it were
The first of spring.
Rabbits don't feel the need to hop,
For they won't go on,
For forever and eternity.
People say it's like a field,
A lovely field of happiness.
They don't understand,
For every field of flowers,
There is a single ****,
That one **** eventually spreads,
And takes over the flowers
Replacing them as if
They have never existed.
For every time,
It is sunny and blue,
There will always be
That one small, dark cloud,
Hovering right near by.
There is no such
Thing as a lovely field of happiness,
Every field has its flaw.
It is a field everyone lives in
Some point in life.
Once you are in this field,
There is no way of escaping,
There is no way in making it perfect,
For there will always be that one,
That one **** or cloud,
Standing in your way,
Of perfection and happiness