I ask myself “will I care for the butterfly”?
Will I nurture its colour in my paintings?
Will I keep it’s aromas pristine in my bosom?
Or I will drive it out from my greenhouse?
I promised myself not to get carried away,
with the reflecting images of mirage,
But every time I find the butterfly,
Flying inside my likeness,
Painting my imagination with divergent images,
That I carry throughout the day ,
So also in starry nights ,
Keeping me wide awake to see my speculation,
Among the vast empty spaces of dark sky,
I shriek in my musing,
But no escape ,
The butterfly dances in my oasis ,
Elegantly and more beautifully in my sketches.