• The ether that drips from the fragile butterfly’ s wing
    The wisp of a cloud shadowed by fate
    A glass case to hold the wings that long to be free
    The frail and brilliant colors of the butterfly
    So easily crushed, the sweet smelling liquid will no longer ignite
    In this frozen field something so innocent cannot survive
    Hold this delicate existence fast
    Anchor the naïve child to this safe place before it is crushed
    For such a thing can never be replaced
    Let the ether drip on, bringing forth the flames of beauty and art
    Hold on to this butterfly, so lovely and pure
    Let it not wander into such a cruel and cold world
    For there its wings will surely snap and fade into black
    So cup your hand around the flickering flame of hope
    Inhale the sweet, heavy cloud that will give you to the false haven of sleep