The Promise Of Fragility

How to paint the butterfly that rails against
the wind? Trailing streams of gossamer like
dreams of forgiven sin. Wings of lightest
paper, a tongue to hide inside, the nectar of
a dew drop to bathe her seeking eyes. She
labors ever onward but she labors not in vain
for her wings they speak of promise as they
beat against the wind. At times there's
never knowing, at moments deep despair, till
the wind it throws her higher on a pillar
only air. There is a taste of mist here it
clings like completion to the air. Her wings
they whisper tatters and her bright coat has
turned to gray, but to the butterfly it
doesn't matter for she flew her course to
stay. With the power of a dove, like dawn
she beat against the wind to alight upon
her Eden, where her wings contend with eagles
and heaven's gates begin.