Liberation

The Sun,
not yellow, though not golden,
places
itwarm gentle hand on my cheek.

The Breeze
not strong, though not still,
brushes
its cool soft hand across my other cheek.

The Silhouettes,
not few, though not innumerable,
pass
Souls pass not noticing me.
Their feet keep moving
along the paths,
scraping the way already trodden
by so many souls the same.

But

The Butterfly,
only one, that's all it takes
to see
what we souls are doing
for as this Butterfly
uses the Sun to compliment
her orange and black
she lands
on every flow'r,
stopping
to check
stopping to do her job
the job that she loves.
she does not miss one.

Then she finds Him.
another stunning Butterfly
flying about.

And they Dance

they Dance in the Sun
for teh world to see.

The Sun
not yellow, though not golden
Dances...