by Melissa R. Bickel

Created on: June 23, 2008   Last Updated: July 31, 2008

Upon a windowsill sits a butterfly,
unwisely landing to take a rest.

Many miles yet to travel,
a moments respite then heading west.

Gazing through an open window,
like a mirage the flame invites.

Seeking pleasures for selfish yearning;
beware young butterfly, better take flight.

Cleaving to the hope of enchantment,
through the window you did fly.

Need for warmth impedes your wisdom,
warmth seduce you with delight.

Within the hearth consciousness surrenders
to the portal that's now your death.

Foolish desire impeded your judgment,
flames end your journey west.

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