Today you are a murdered butterfly,
Like flower petals in the wind,
Each one falling to earth like something rare.
Today you are a murdered butterfly,
Your scales are like gold dust.
Black rain in black hearts.
Today you are a murdered butterfly.
Even Malverde is unmasked
By what the butterfly can see:
Twelve thousand suns and moons.
Twelve thousand skies and forests
And twelve thousand murderers…
Today you are a murdered butterfly,
Your migration will take you far
Beyond the fallen earth, Homero.
Heartbreaking and beautiful. ph
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Thank you, Peter. Welcome aboard.
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