POEM: The Butterfly isn’t beautiful

The Butterfly isn’t beautiful

If it was then so many other things would be too,
Like the birds,
And the skies,
And the earth, the only one we have
And the trees,
The source of the air we breathe,
And the paper on which we write our wills for when we die.
When we die...

But that’s just it.
When we do that’s it.
The end.
Whatever notions we have about the after-life are just that;
We don’t have any corroborating evidence from anyone up there,
Down there,
Or in there,
Wherever there is.
We don’t take anything with us.
We don’t leave anything behind because we aren’t coming back for it.
But while we’re here we don’t notice anything but ourselves
We miss out on the beauty
Of the birds,
The skies,
And the earth, the only one we have.
Man has blinded himself with one too many notions,
And that’s why butterflies aren’t beautiful


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