In Sunlit Freedom

A butterfly drifts,  

Silent on the autumn breeze,  

No weight of earthbound—  

Its wings weave unseen pathways,  

Leaving no trace in still air.  

Once a creeping thing,  

Bound by roots and hunger’s pull,  

It dreamed of sky’s edge—  

Now it floats, pale as moonlight,  

In sunlit freedom, reborn.  

Wings soft as the dawn,  

A whisper of fragile light,  

Boundless and unknown.  

A thousand flowers may call,  

Yet it answers none at all.  

No wish to be held,  

No sorrow for what was lost,  

It just drifts onward—  

An easy breath, skyward bound,  

Carried by winds without care.  

And so it teaches—  

By grace, it escapes and moves,  

Leaves no thread behind.  

We hold what we should release,  

To find our own way to peace.