The black butterfly

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 sorrowing stream;
humming, like a song, stuck in 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;
as they pray in silence to clear their conscience before the new sun rolls.

The butterfly, once again, mystified by these actors of the night;
waiting for the sun to put a shadow on their perpetual fights.
But soon, creatures will rise again, gaining back their colors for another start;
marooned for yet another day, as the butterfly makes its way back to dark.