In the Land of Butterflies

We search the desert sands 

for butterflies---the one 

which reflects the colors swirling 

within us, making us 

who we are. I think 

mine is small and blue--- 

it wants to be bigger, a beautiful blue 

and black bird-wing, wings 

almost a foot wide, impossible 

not to see, impossible 

 to ignore. 

How many caterpillars 

are out there, masquerading 

 as butterflies? Can't we see them 

for their false wings?

So I search these desert sands 

for other butterflies---butterflies 

with wings of gold, reflecting 

the sun so you cannot see them, 

mistake them 

for something other than butterflies--- 

until they take off, drifting 

light on the desert winds. Her shine 

makes her difficult to see, 

 difficult to obtain, 

though I must obtain her 

if my own butterfly is to expand 

into the blue and black bird-wing. 

 So I search, knowing I may instead--- 

certainly will in the end--- 

find a black-winged butterfly 

that will take me finally away 

to the end.