The Whispering Wings

The Whispering Wings

 

A butterfly drifted on sunlight so thin,

With galaxies painted in patterns of skin,

Each wing a story no other could tell,

A soft-spoken secret, a fluttering spell.

 

No two are the same in the skies they adorn,

Each one a moment the universe has worn,

Brushstrokes of wonder, both fleeting and bright,

Tiny reflections of infinite light.

 

They carry no maps, yet they always arrive,

Drawn by a knowing that hums deep inside,

A quiet direction, no compass, no sound,

Just trust in the air that is holding them round.

 

And here comes the part that may make you blink—

They taste with their feet… yes, pause and think!

A landing, a testing: “Is this leaf divine?”

A toe-tap decision: “Yes, this one is fine.”

 

Imagine such wisdom in soles so small,

To savour the world without hands at all,

To walk through existence, both gentle and sweet,

And quite literally taste every step you meet.

 

Perhaps there’s a message in wings so wise,

In colours that shimmer like dreaming skies,

That life isn’t something to rush or chase,

But something to feel in each tiny place.

 

To trust where you land, though the path feels unknown,

To find quiet truths in the seeds you’ve sown,

And maybe—just maybe—if we slowed our pace,

We’d notice the magic beneath every space.

 

So next time a butterfly dances near,

Pause long enough just to hold it clear,

For in those wings, so vivid and bright,

Is a sprinkle of wonder… a flicker of light.

©️LW

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Done