Question

Is there any point to watching a butterfly fly in summer?

Beyond the beauty of it

Hallways of beauty

Sounds of hell and love, all mixed together

Where do they lead one?

And why IS a stupid question

Where? To go?

I am in love, and I don’t know where to go

I don’t even know what’s real

So where does one go what does one do?

When one’s meaning is love and beauty?

Walk the earth, and love, but not know anything, beyond the blue sky, but to feel myth, like a comet unravelling all the secrets of the universe in one woman’s glance?

And then what? What do I do?

Do I fade back into green?

And then slight return is a prelude, a concerto?

My heart unladen, it cannot fade, it rises on this earth everyday of my life and then some

And I’m looking down

And then, a butterfly starts flying in summer, and you wonder, where am I going?