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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Life

The butterfly is never born with wings
She starts upon the earth and only crawls
But to that form she knows she cannot cling
For holding on means transformation stalls

The courage to allow yourself to fall
So freely that you fear that you may die
Becomes the very thing that lets you fly.

6 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

This reads like universal truth.

Spot on.

Fireblossom said...

That is the absolute truth, and the number one reason why I love butterflies.

Fireblossom said...

ps--doesn't Benda remind you a little bit of Mucha?

Bouncin Barb said...

Lolamouse, you spread your wings here on earth and now you are spreading them in heaven! Thank you for beautiful words! You will live on forever through them.

Betsy Adams said...

Here from Barb's blog to say that I am so sorry to hear of your death... God Bless the family --and I will remember all of you in my prayers.
Hugs,
Betsy

Kat said...

I also received the sad news from Barb. I want to express my deepest sympathies to the family and friends of this talented and entertaining writer. Her loss is a loss to the blogging world as well as to those who knew her.