chaos

once i met a butterfly with fractured stained-glass wings so delicate and fluttering against vivacious winds twice around me chance it sang from its sweetly bitter song in a path of twinkling universes byzantine and long thrice it blinked and then i knew that i’d never know to what effect its flutter breeze or touch might tear apart its essence so twice then it glowed quite prettily in a rippling neon insanity adored by shattering millefiori wings which spun what winds were not before and yet once the butterfly flew away it left a world of astral gray so come, then, Fates, i’ll learn one day ‘twas just a theory anyway