Papillon

The first time it appeared, the sadness was still new; Tears flowed down her cheeks from eyes filled with desolation. It was when her smile gathered depth; when her joy grew wings; for it is in abject sadness that happiness is born. She now knew what a smile was; what living in the moment meant. On the wings of that butterfly, hope was born again. 

Years passed. It was a period, when nothing moved her. Pain, pleasure, nothing mattered. The wheels of Time creaked along its dusty path. She was no longer Nature’s child. Indifference and hurt had turned her into a callous human product. Yet, at certain moments, at certain times of the day, in certain places, her true self emerged; she would then talk to the tree; talk to the puppy on the road, or cuddle a baby with all her love. These short-lived moments reminded her of her true self. Would she be able to get back in touch with that self of hers again? 

She was not known to give up, though. Even at the worst moments, she always believed that she would get better. That’s when she saw him again, her very own butterfly. She wondered why he always appeared when she was sad. Was it to soothe her? Or to remind her that she was not alone, and that she never would be? This time, she was determined. To make a comeback. To bring back the smile, forever. To let herself be moved by things. To let the waves of emotion engulf her soul, whether it brought her joy or grief. Determined to live. 
And to love.
She learned to mother other souls; to grow more flowers. To not think about the sadness in her heart, but of all the love around her. Each day, she offered a thanks to all the gods around; for answering her every prayer. Nature wanted to be her friend again. She wanted to hug the world.  The smile on her face spoke of her determination and her clear soul. She thought of him, often, her winged butterfly. Who came to see her many a time, leaving her with renewed hope. Mad hope. Impractical hope. Hope that would be laughed at, perhaps. She did not care. He was hers, le papillon des souvenirs. 

He is here now, flitting around her.  Bon anniversaire, she whispers softly unto him. For he always symbolizes birth to her. 
Of a smile.
Of a new dream.
Or just simply, 
the dawn of a better morrow. 

À bientôt, mon petit papillon.. Je t’aime.