Poet…

Poet…
A butterfly which adds beauty to the creation
A butterfly that flutters around the fragrances of life
A butterfly that helps pollinate compelling creative cerebration

A butterfly that knows it is blessed with a gift of silken wings;
To bring joy as they fly…

A butterfly which recognises that Morus alba was created just for it;
Food for its colourful, fearless, indubitable and unequivocal views…

A butterfly that knows that it grew feeding on its own ideation eggs;
Fed on a single source, to grow in size even a hundred times;
Royally protected in a silken womb;
Chose to wing out to celebrate the privileges and purpose before it finds its tomb…

A butterfly which knows that as even if it were sacrificed before birth,
It would still silkily adorn Men, Lords and the God…

I represent metamorphosis;
Transformation and Continuity for a better life, a better behoof…

Let me flutter,
Clear Clutter…

Let me fly
For I know, I last, at the best, a moon cycle,
At the least, a Sun cycle…