As the rain falls and creeps into places kept in the dry darkness, the cracked landscape longs to be quenched. Its soil weathered and torn from years of neglect.
Once upon a time, the idea of thick luscious grass dancing to the tune of a summer’s wind was easy to conceive. There was no reason to believe that the greens would ever turn to a dusty brown.
During the age of innocence that greenery shifted, and for so very long dripped in colors not so pretty to the eye’s of the average beholder. So many of those visual perceptions were guided by judgment and ill notions.
Years of wandering and feeling lost and alone lead to the inability to comprehend that in this universe so vast and wide were others who knew, were others who understood, were others who did not cast stones in houses made of cards.
The walls of that house were so very thin and yet kept things hidden as if iron was the material of choice. There was no superman to melt those iron walls or to lift the heavy burdens that fell silently out of reach. All the while the Joker was allowed to continue their shadowy ways. One spent time wishing to grow wings that would enable flying, flying to uncharted lands far from the dirty soil surrounding the grounds of growing. Those wings never came until years of running internally only lead to treading water and barely breathing. All this time the caterpillar had no idea that there was a beautiful butterfly dying to be born. Eventually, she did emerge and with very wet (and in some places) tattered and torn wings.
It’s been a slow rebirth and rarely has there been any consistent suggestion, thought or idea into how beautiful she truly is. The butterfly herself had difficulty seeing or believing it is so. Often, the butterfly would become weary and find herself resting. Not knowing that others existed, or that she herself was one too, a magician gently scooped the butterfly encasing her in warmth and universal light. The butterfly was unsure, but yet could not deny the safety she felt in the strong and gentle hands. She had spent so much energy flying and evading that she wished to use her energy differently.
She noticed that the magician made no attempt to cover her tattered scars, but instead, infused them with light of understanding. It was brought to her attention that her scars (her wounds) were part of her ability to illuminate dark spaces with light.
The magician assured her that she was beautiful and not alone, and for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime she slowly started to believe that it was true. It’s a new feeling, and one that comes with a little bit of fear and cautiousness, but without the need to fly away.