Chrysalis and Moth Wings
She covered herself in mystery, a chrysalis of pain.
I wont let another soul touch me so as long as I remain.
As time healed her spirit she fluttered out a different
creature, exploring the mountains and the waves.
One day she sat under a shade of a tree next to a moth
and something wasn’t the same.
“Where did the colors of your wings go? Did they wash
away with the rain?”
“No" said the moth as he glanced over, “my eyes cant see
color but I felt the pattern being made. If you read my
wings closely you will see what they say.”
The butterfly looked closer and then even looked away.
She adjusted her sight slightly and couldn’t believe the words they say.
“With butterflies I use color to wash away their pain.
Moths are created differently though, it's with light they are made.”
The moth asked the butterfly to read it to him and with faith she would
say, “The words mean nothing to you, or you would've been created that way.”
The moth looked over and said “I'll read you your wings, and they're asking me