Thursday, 14 July 2011

Insipient destiny: go for the butterfly’s approach path.

Tomorrow may be rainy and wet and cloudy and miserable, so, when the relative meaninglessness of being without all relative meaning is overcast in dejection, then follow the sun as it shines in the skies to metamorphosis on the gleaming way.

But think: the butterflies know not now what they do, as they are without good mirrors for themselves, yet, it is never enough for them to know that they do not know what it means, even for themselves.

But in thy flight in fright, be still, as what is so, is so; what is not, is not; and what will be, will be. This is constant.

Bright the beat of the butterfly's wings is on the empty skies above us.

1 comment:

Welcome! Here, be Platonic, be precise, be concise, do not lie, do not mock, do not giggle, do not do the fandango in your mind as you comment. In effect, be one with the butterfly as you think and converse here.