The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. ~Rabindranath Tagore
I found a beautiful butterfly today that had made one final metamorphosis back into the Quantum. Death, in all ways, used to unnerve me. But it's simply a releasing. In the releasing, we're left to reflect upon the gifts in memories and tokens of whom they had been to us. As we hold those thoughts and things, we bind ourselves to the essence of what they are now.
Angels.
Guides.
Companions.
Champions.
When I went to lift this beautiful butterfly to bury her, I realized she was stuck to the earth. So, I was gentle yet diligent as I began to gather her and it was then she surrendered her wings to me.
Perfectly.
Flawlessly, they fell into my hand.
Then came the releasing of my tears all over them; this sign that could not go unacknowledged.
I have felt stuck befriending gravity like a madman. Half living. Falling into old patterns...falling...falling...falling.
I chose this life. I engaged in a covenant that I would come and participate in the full richness of who I Am.
She did that. Lived her covenant.
Free.
Faithful. Even in the dark chrysalis of her unknown.
So, I allow my life to bind with this angel through the divine gifts she gave me.
Her pristine wings and the small sacred space that held her earthbound that served as my mirror.