Walking down the misty street of winters
I came across a dying butterfly,
weak, pathetic was her condition,
intended to help I asked her how.

“You came in this world as thorny larva
crawling, creeping through twigs n leaves.
Your life was so simple just gorge and guzzle,
ready for the fortunate transition
from a helpless creepy fellow
to a tame less, carefree birdie.
Wrapped in mulberry, nettle leaves
you donned a camouflage,
day by day you made a transition.
You forced open the Chrysalis,
and emerged, holding the leaves tight
blood flowed in your veins
making them rigid, ready for the fight flight.
Just when whole world thought
you are dead in the resting state,
You began to explore and world amazed!!!
I admired you without flinching
hither I see your splendid wings
quivering in this cold and you wincing”.

HOPE...

Has GOD forbidden his aegis?
Such beauty Butterfly once held,
now is lying haggard but still
holding the spirit high she replied,

“This is what we call the Nature,
you came here for a task to accomplish.
to complete the purpose you serve,
and farewell this world as if,
I never belonged to your love,
unconditional yet so detached.
My nature is to fly and fly and fly
collect nectar from those floral pasture
from dusk to dawn, day to night.
whole life we ran behind an aim,
thinking that this is where the happiness lies,
just like a deer chasing a mirage.
We cried for those who were not ours,
forgot the journey we once made
the moment we lived with such grandeur.
May be my wings are pestilence now,
not as lustrous and splendid as before
though I’ll find the salvation for
I served the purpose I awed…”

The Butterfly took its quenching breadth,
summoned strength for the LAST FLIGHT,
what an ironic situation it was…
I saw her growing day by day then,
now she is performing the last rites.

She raised upthrust opening the wings,
fought the cruel west wind like valiant.
I never saw the Butterfly again,
She remained in my heart like soul within,.
I found solace in every word of hers,
like a traveler lost in a jungle
finds a path to a hamlet though ravines
the deer is not chasing mirage anymore..

THIS is the end of the Odyssey
of the Butterfly who once lived and forever.
But THE LAST FLIGHT of her strive us
to live the life as if we never lived before
and die like this is the only way to get through
For this is the last flight of yours,
and there is no ship to ferry you other shore…..

—CHARU LATA

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