Unable to leave my glade in the greens, I stand aloof thinking about the disappeared blue butterflies. Coiled and recoiled inside a silky cocoon-learning to shrink before my birth– I lived as the tiniest of moth which never learned to fly. Before night sparkling blue butterflies had vanished to nowhere– flapping and rambling- they always flown around me. They gave me the first note of catharsis hymn or a melody of purification which still cleanses my languid self in the path searching deep repose and love. I had seen them as blotches of twirling blue - flickering in accordance - spangled over the dark veil of night. They taught me to see beyond existence, to connive love, to switch life between real and surreal. They taught me to see being blank and to listen being oblivious. To tread the way blue butterflies had vanished, I know, I really don’t want to venture out anywhere. But soon, I’ll leave my glade. I know they’ve bloomed as blue roses where my lady moth lives. Blink. I can see.
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