Butterflies,
With their delicate wings,
Flap laces and blessings of new dreams
And ventures,
Through the silence and murmur of voices.
They show up uninvited—
Not for the vows, not for the ceremony,
Or the reception.
They’re just free, in their own little world,
A good omen of nature’s poetry.
Playing with their cousins,
No longer tied, held hostage in anyone’s stomach,
They flutter through the words
Not bound by expectation or vow.
As small and fragile as they are,
They remember the things we do not—
All the things we act out and rehearse,
And still tend to forget,
They do naturally.
Like crashing a family wedding,
As a simple reminder:
That the best things in life land
Where they will,
No matter if it’s a dress, a car,
A hat, or a heart

Who hears our cry from the cocoon
and days we spent in contemplation,
days we shunned our silky existence
as a worm, worthless and young.
Sometimes we wish we never saw the light.
Little did we think we will grow wings
someday. Colourful, beautiful wings
with which we could flit around.
Afraid of the changes in our own lifes,
how often we cling to the familar,
to the known!
But still we emerge as butterflies,
embracing the beauty of change,
spreading our wings, and dancing around,
letting the world witness our transformation.

🐛🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋