As I walked home from town the other day, I noticed the sad sight of this butterfly on the pavement in front of me.
Nearly dead.
Prematurely dead on concrete that wasn’t its destiny.
I walked past at first, my heart somehow ached for it.
And then I went back, slowly, no one was around and so….gently, lifted it up, its wings so so delicate in my open palm, and still reflexing, or having its last few beats. I so so gently placed it over a wall and into a garden, so that at least it could spend its last few hours on soil and not pavement. Slightly closer to where it was meant to be.
A colourful butterfly dying a premature death, probably hit by a car and then concrete.
A soul less death after spending so long in its life to be, finally who it was meant to be, the end of the cycle. (possibly unless it laid eggs)
It at least had a slightly softer death rather than a sudden one.
And I said goodbye to it, and walked on, for at least in that moment, it had been cared for.
And I heard a voice saying to me, as I walked away from it.
You did not go through being small.
You did not go through being silenced.
You did not go through scraping around on the floor.
You did not go through being afraid.
You did not go through eating fifty times your body weight.
And then…
You did not then die a thousand deaths
or
sink into a darkness
or surrender to change
nor melt into a secret sacred home
nor hide away nor stay
to then emerge
and fly…..briefly….only
to live a curtailed life.
You did not change to live a soul less concrete life
You did not die, only to die again and again
The cocoon doesn’t have a return door.
You can’t go back.
The universe is waiting for your flight,
The universe is waiting for your colour,
The universe is waiting to look up and watch and wait for you to dance upon the wind, and be interrupted by your joyful wonder.
You were chosen for this life,
You were chosen for this life to be life,
You were chosen to be light and in the light,
You were chosen for colour and to be colour,
You were chosen from the beginnings of silence,
From before colour and before time.
To radiate eternity, poured out from hearts sacred colours.
Time to truly fly.
James Ballantyne 