butterfly

Fluttering with the thrust of the nighttime wind, he dips his rusted orange wings in the warmth below him. His delicate body twists and curves, seemingly unnoticed by the crowds of people whose hair he brushes with his soft wings. But the sky has turned from a star clouded night to a wonder of eerie luminescence, dotted with stars of glittering fluorescent light, whose palette is as vast and inviting as that of a rainbow. These stars blink and change color, intriguing the crowd towards their lit spectacles. Humans do their best to fly to the clouds on swings or dizzy themselves on twirling attractions, leaving them in a strange drunken stupor. They indulge themselves in the simple delights they’re offered and drift back to their childhood through their own children’s eyes. The whirring of rides, the crowds, the persuasive entertainers all join in the cacophony, creating a strange music only time can enjoy. Still, he floats along the wind’s current and bats his wings against the light’s hospitable warmth. His shadow crosses the eyes of many a man and teenager, but few turn to see the creature in all his beauty and strength. But still, some watch the creature’s fragile wings bat against the wind’s harshness and long to float amidst the clouds as he has.