Exploding Butterflies

I walk amongst the fallen and still falling. They pause for lifetimes in the air, just long enough for a tear to form. It does not drop, but instead hangs like a cliffhanger… for just another second still. From that drop of lifewater twirls reflections of reality and like a chandelier of chaos it dangles from my eyelash like a flambeau leading my vision by example.

I blink…

And in doing so I shatter the illusion that had begun to form and like a splash of cold water I awaken to exploding butterflies around me. I dance amongst their carcasses like raindrops as I spread my fingers between their lives. Such small droplets of insignificant identities, worthless now, and weighing no more than the wind’s breath that carries them. They flutter for a second as if desperate to matter for just a moment longer… but eventually they continue to descend upon their preordained path.

I step…

Within my motion I strive for emotion. I push myself to want to feel for that which I have seen and that I am currently seeing before my eyes. I begin to cry. Not tears of ideology or circumstance, but real tears that come from a connection to a moment. A moment never lasts though and like fog it vanishes before the fury of desperation. Desperately I take another step.


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