But even butterflies of sunset colors
still flutter in the wind.
Despite a heavy metamorphosis
the wind does still support them.
Their orange and yellow do remind
of something that has ended.
But their flickering flutter, too,
rekindles the memory of stars long suspended.
So let us all provide the wind
for one another’s wings.
Let us catch each other’s tears
that fall from cloudy eyes.
Let us help each other
embrace the memories of
cigar smoke, the white whale,
and warm holidays without worry.
Because Father said clocks slay time.
He said time is dead
as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels;
only when the clock stops
does time come to life
And the butterfly knows this is true
for a pocket-watch would weigh her down;
her subtle strength would not allow
for her wings to leave the ground.
That is why the butterfly (accepting change)
releases time
in order for her time to be used
floating via a warm wind’s courtesy.
Without the weight of a timepiece
she is able to welcome the reminders
of warm memories of her butterfly,
now warm wind strong behind her.
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
But even butterflies of sunset colors
still flutter in the wind.
Despite a heavy metamorphosis
the wind does still support them.
Their orange and yellow do remind
of something that has ended.
But their flickering flutter, too,
rekindles the memory of stars long suspended.
So let us all provide the wind
for one another’s wings.
Let us catch each other’s tears
that fall from cloudy eyes.
Let us help each other
embrace the memories of
cigar smoke, the white whale,
and warm holidays without worry.
Because Father said clocks slay time.
He said time is dead
as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels;
only when the clock stops
does time come to life
And the butterfly knows this is true
for a pocket-watch would weigh her down;
her subtle strength would not allow
for her wings to leave the ground.
That is why the butterfly (accepting change)
releases time
in order for her time to be used
floating via a warm wind’s courtesy.
Without the weight of a timepiece
she is able to welcome the reminders
of warm memories of her butterfly,
now warm wind strong behind her.
Third stanza from William Faulkner's "The Sound and the Fury"