The Nature of Dreams


Like a butterfly, creeping from its delicate cocoon
Came the stirring, naught but a faint whim at first,
Slowly growing to a crescendo of uncertain urgency
Wherein there lay doubt and desire,
A need to chase the little critter,
Now spreading its gossamer wings,
Ornamented in vibrant colours concisely capturing
The very hue of your heart and shade of your soul
Leaving you startled and dizzyingly delighted
As you take a sleeping step forward-
And it darts away.
Snap! the somnolent spell is broken,
And you begin pursuit in earnest
The gilded wings of the butterfly
Frustratingly forever out of your reach
As you chase it through craggy and cliffed mountains
And fantastical forboding forests
And drought-ridden, dropless deserts
So that when your fingers finally feel it beneath them
You are consumed with a burning happiness
Which blazes bright like a fire,
Before fizzling away to a subdued satisfaction,
As the makeup of the butterfly shifts and changes to a fresh hue
And it wriggles from your grasp
Leaving you blinking and bewildered
Before starting up pursuit anew.

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