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.