paint my mind the colour of stars, fill me with wonder and tell me what i hold

the day breaks, it crashes…shards of blue flee to every point i see,

the gold once suspended now leaking bringing a dawn i cannot capture

turning,

children are chasing butterflies, no fairies for them, through their laughter and joy

is a sting of anguish and regret that i will never be shook with that laughter again

that mither will never again hold me as i lay steeped in innocence,

i am no more a butterfly.

but do we all become moths, do we all lose that colour as we are drawn to that flame?

or can we choose to stay afloat in that sun singing meadow