The Silence Becomes

One doesn’t always need to be a butterfly with loud wings…the quiet moth carries the flame.

༺🦋༻ ༺🌙༻ ༺🦋༻ ༺✨༻ ༺🦋༻༺🦋༻ ༺🌙༻ ༺🦋༻

I chase the bright light, but not to burn

I go after glimmer to be

Ash-dusted wings that whisper

Hidden, darkened, still.

But the flame still calls

Always brushes

Draws me near

Warm light

Brief.

༺🦋༻ ༺🌙༻ ༺🦋༻ ༺✨༻ ༺🦋༻༺🦋༻ ༺🌙༻ ༺🦋༻

But

Enough

That I shine

Dull wings brightened

Their limp sides unfurl

Spreading slowly across

From one end to another

Encasing all who embrace them

With a love that nurtures and abounds.

༺🦋༻ ༺🌙༻ ༺🦋༻ ༺✨༻ ༺🦋༻༺🦋༻ ༺🌙༻ ༺🦋༻

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