Trail of the Butterfly...

Flying through the breeze,
Over the beautiful fields of green.
The white butterfly flutters,
A precious white no one has ever seen.
Floating steadily towards a cottage,
Where a mother worries of her baby.
The child is so tiny and fragile,
That chances of survival is bleak.
The butterfly enters the house,
Through an open window.
And rests on the shoulder of the lady,
An army widow.

It sheds a tiny tear,
Upon the beautiful sight.
And the baby closes her eyes,
To follow the Heavenly light.

Floating away,
With the cold breeze,
It hears the mother weep.

Brown were the rough lands,
Over which the butterfly flew.
Agile through the torrent winds,
Without a sense of direction, without a clue.
The shack that housed an old man,
Humble was his way of life.
Was seated looking out the window,
Thinking of his lost beautiful wife.
Trailing to the recluse,
Fluttered down to the keep.
And stood in front of the window,
Watching the old fall asleep.

It sheds a tiny tear,
Upon the beautiful sight.
And a picture falls down,
Of the man who follows the light.

Floating away,
With the cold breeze,
It hears the wind weep.

Butterfly, why do you take,
And never give back?
For you have left nothing,
In that shack.
Replied, "I left a tear,
So dear to me without second thought.
For the world may tear apart,
If against it I had fought.
Love, life, cherish and care,
Are things that we hardly find.
On this tormented earth,
It is better to take away the kind."

I did not understand the butterfly,
When it said those lines.
And I looked up in the sky,
Found a new star that shines.

Over the trees and river,
The butterfly strolled on.
Found a hasty hunter,
Chasing after a beautiful fawn.
Following the pursuit,
The butterfly understood the intent.
Through the trees and over the streams,
Until it reached the dead end.
As the hunter takes on,
The fawn had struck a deal.
Panther jumps on the hunter,
And enjoys its wonderful meal.

Butterfly sheds a tiny tear,
Upon the sad sight.
Hunter being hunted,
The man follows the light.

The butterfly floats away,
Feeling a cold breeze,
It hears the darkness creep.