I spoke to
A butterfly one night
As it sat on my
Window seal in the
Autumn moonlight of
An upcoming November.
I asked it
How it became so beautiful?
He responded politely
All struggle has
A reward for endurance.
I am only a
Resultant of how
Struggle turns to beauty
And my way of spreading it.
I returned by saying
But do you choose
The colors you're adorned with?
He responded kindly
I do not
But yet neither do
I choose what form I take.
My cousin, the moth,
It's an example of how
Not all endurance eqauls
In a beautiful result.
