When I first saw the butterfly I was captivated by its beauty, desire rising to possess it, a thing to be owned I tried to capture it but could not, it flowed freely, meandering unpredictably I tried to follow it but failed, it's movements effortless while I struggled to keep up Exhausted, I sat in a meadow as the sound of a brook and sensation of a soft breeze dissolved my desire I opened my eyes to find the butterfly perched on the back of my hand, light and gentle Wings moving slowly, wordlessly expressing that we belong to only One, in, and as, freedom
