Where did all the butterflies go?


There used to be butterflies everywhere in Spring and in Summer and on flowers. So many of them–multi colored.

And there may have been constant happiness–was it due to the million colors on one wing?

A wisp of air–wind in your face and BUTTERFLIES hovering over your head.

As if they have escaped the shackles of the rainbow and dispersed.

And there they were–a part of my history–the joy they brought…FATHOMLESS.

And now–

And now, there is a thick smoke in the air. The colors have evaporated.

And the rain…what rain?

There are no doubt flowers–many of them…colorful and fragrant.

But now there is fear and doom around.

Despondency hovers around our heads now–dull, grey despondency.

And pain–it is here. unlike before–but perhaps our memory blurs it all.

So why not now?

Smoke clad wind and heavy…it is all here.

Even the flowers are here–waiting, forever for the butterfly to land on them with their velvety wings and spread the rumor that the flower has a secret to share.

But where is this sadness coming from?

Old people–old, frail eyes–watching the world fade.

Watching the colors fade.

So as i stand by my window watching the flowers stand there alone–spreading fragrance to invite color–why does the world fast fade?

And as i wonder all it–my question remains–where did all the butterflies go?








We are surrounded by fragility. Everything and everyone we know of…is fragile.

One way or another.

Like the butterfly. With fragile wings. Yet colorful and bright. How they can disintegrate.

Or the glass…beautifully shaped, but it can shatter.

It is all fragile. Like sleep.

And what goes on…when we dream. And when we stop.