A Journey Of A Thousand Miles
A sad picture of beauty is painted before me. The butterfly, its fragile stained glass wings a vibrant sunset orange, tainted only by falling water droplets, is perched atop a bundle of flowers. Sound is virtually nonexistent here, for the only noise is the gentle pitter-patter of the rain littering the pavement below. Intoxicating is the only word that can properly describe the scent, a refreshing mixture of the baby-pink flowers, newly cut grass and the moistened air. It is barely noticeable when the creature begins to lap at the succulent, yellow sun of nectar in the center of a flower. No wonder, the taste is desirable. As she crawls across the pale pink velvet, she is surely coming closer to finishing her treacherous journey. For beneath the glimmering petals lays a promise land of safety.