Discover the equilibrium,
at the equinox of transformation,
where what was and what will be
are silent in the face of what is right now.
...
In the dwindling light of summer,
spoonfuls of moon dust dance,
swirling through twilight air,
cradled by whispers of forgotten dreams.
Bright butterflies take stage,
unexpected performers in this dusky theater;
their wings flicker like tiny stars slipping from space,
each flutter a fleeting memory,
the wane and wax of magic.
Tears dissolve into warm breezes,
misty shadows dissipating with the day,
as transformation alights on every petal.
It is a beautiful endeavor, a tapestry woven amidst exhaustion;
every ounce spent labouring for colour to bloom anew.
At this equinox of change,
where what was, settles softly behind closed eyes,
and what will be, rests in silent promise,
we find our balance:
a serene suspension between breaths.
Here I linger in quietude,
in the embrace where time forgets its rush;
what is right now pulses brightly beneath their flight,
echoes sway along paths untraveled,
yet known within these aching bones.
So let us taste the stardust spun from longing,
let it fill our palms until we can hold no more;
for even as changes drain us dry,
transformation carries light that spills over edges once confined,
glimmering freshness gracing every blade,
like laughter pushed skyward,
softly framing tomorrow's dawn.
In spring’s embrace, the world begins to wake,
Soft petals unfurl beneath gentle rains,
Every hue a promise that we might take,
Beneath our layers lie fragile refrains.
Like butterflies weaving through sunlit dreams,
We shed the heavy skin of yesterdays,
Our hopes break free on silken threaded beams,
Emerging from shadows in vibrant displays.
Summer hums with laughter and light’s bold chase,
Each flutter a dance in warmth's sweet surrender;
Transformation spills over time and space,
The heart learns to soar as fears grow tender.
With fall’s breath we whisper our stories bright,
A tapestry woven of day into night.
In the hush of morning, wings unfold,
Amidst the whispering leaves of springtime’s birth,
A canvas painted bright with stories told,
From chrysalis to sky, a joyous mirth.
As summer dances in her golden gown,
Each vibrant flutter marks a journey’s grace;
The palette shifts from green to russet brown,
And transformations wear time's gentle face.
When autumn sighs and seeks her crisp repose,
These fleeting creatures chase the fading light;
Their beauty lingers where wildflowers close,
Ephemeral echoes in soft twilight.
For life is but a cycle: rise and fall,
In every shade embraced, we find our all.
Butterfly whispers
A memory in the wind
Never forgotten
In spring's first breath, soft whispers stir the air,
Emerald buds breathe life into the morn.
A palette blooms, a dance without compare,
Each butterfly emerges as if reborn.
They flutter forth with colours born anew,
Transfixed in sunlight’s golden tapestry;
Their painted wings break free from what they knew,
Transforming shadows into clarity.
As summer swells and days grow long with light,
These creatures weave through laughter on the breeze,
Echoes of change in each bold flight,
Seasoned by warmth, whilst hearts unfreeze.
As autumn glows, crisp leaves crown their grace,
Let souls reflect, each season has it's place.
Letting go, I shed the weight of stares,
The shadowed whispers that crave to confine.
Expectations dance like gilded snares,
Crafting a path that's never truly mine.
With every heartbeat, I unravel thread,
A tapestry woven in borrowed air.
Their dreams are worn; my spirit needs to spread,
Breaking the mold of silence and despair.
I trust in roots that stretch beyond their view,
In storms of doubt where only I must grow;
Each day is free with skies both wide and blue,
My voice emerges from the depths below.
Unbound at last by shackles forged in fear,
I find my strength within; I’m truly here.
You might be able to tell that I love butterflies and all they represent in terms of transformation; below are a few more paintings I've created.
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