As the sun finally gasps,
before settling in the orange bay;
the darkness creeps in
stealing all the colors of the day.
With timid eyes rise
the creatures of the night;
silently fluttering, makes its way,
‘the black butterfly‘.
The world, surreal to her,
cast under the blanket of sorrow;
dazzled with darkness,
she looks for some colors to borrow.
Though the creatures of the day, shortly,
seem to fall frail;
shivering in fear they hid,
as the darkness prevails.
Once glorified, the Eden is mopped
under the rug of shame;
even the painted yellow tulips
seem to have forgotten their names.
The butterfly silently moved past
the dark waters of the sorrowing stream;
humming, like a song, stuck in the head
from a distant dream.
She reached to the lilies
perched along the dismal gorge;
meditating they seem as they enter
into the abyss, with forge.
The night seems to fall heavy,
like some burden to their souls;
they silently praying to clean their conscience,
before the new sun rolls.
The butterfly, once again,
mystified by these actors of the night;
awaiting the sun to put a shadow
on their perpetual fights.
Soon, the creatures will rise again
gaining back their colors for another start;
marooned for yet another day, as the butterfly
makes its way back to the dark.