A Butterfly Story..

The moment I release the zip, from the tight cocoon cloak, I feel the heat from the tip, the new fresh breeze kisses my thorax, Pushing the colored wings out, reposition of my retracted shape, My flight of life has begun to finish, spraying the perfume of hope. Confused for a while, resting on the mat, which is mated as Africans hair, Watching all near and around, full of green with contrasting flowers, Mummy was right; she has chosen the good spot, where I can grow up, Blooms are young old and young, circled by my friends. The colors of Chinese umbrella and Indonesian Malays batik design, Indian jewels of gems and glass, European’s eagerness in my feeling, American’s alertness in my action, Japanese futuristic notions of dreams, African’s innocence, Middle Eastern blessing of black diamonds, I have to live my life having all these treasure on my wings, Before the passing away of my spirit to another spring, First I touch the flowers with delight and then flutter and bounce, No anchor and foundation, but a stalk of hope in trance, Assisting the pollination, collecting the powder pollen, Sipping the cognitive delusion, compounded eyes in delirium, Many miles of flying zone pasted with colorful vegetation, My life has just begun to wander, guard and replicate each bloom.