I Am Living The Dream
Not the cynical dream. The real one. The one with a butterfly floating through it. The dream that manifested over a lifetime of demons and vices and pain. A flutter of wings. Ethereal. All those forces merged with an embrace of chaos and change. Some rain. Avoided. Some not. A willingness to be wet within the storm. Where is this butterfly that I need to thank? There is no deserved. There is no regret. The butterfly did it. Not me. Flutter. Privilege. Flutter. Luck. Flutter. Perseverance. Somewhere in all that chaos a butterfly fanned the fates. The brief sojourn could be over. But it appears that it isn’t. How do I send a butterfly your way? You deserve one as well.
