Where Butterflies Never Die
K.L.
A/N: A short drabble and my interpretation of a beautiful song.
Song: Where Butterflies Never Die by Broken Iris
Life is a gift sent from Heaven. Two souls unite to create another – a beautiful existence. It is a merging union of love and of new breath. It is a moment to treasure; cherish until time itself ceases.
That is what it is meant to be. Meant; not is.
/~/
Slender fingers tumble across ebony and ivory their dance elegant yet clumsy. Darkness encompasses all. Sight is not needed; a melody of the heart, a movement the body never forgets. "Float on to the painted sky where we shall be unified as I slip inside." It is a song for the Lost, "Where butterflies… never die…" It is an escape.
/~/
Her life was a gift accompanied by a curse. It was a dream trapped within a nightmare. Beautiful yet repulsive.
/~/
"Multiply humanity, harmonize insanity," Tears no longer fall, "Sharing light of remedy, holding tides of clarity," The last tear cried long ago, "Shattered glass in flower beds. Humanize inhumane ends," What remains is but a shell of what once was.
/~/
Broken souls cannot unite nor can they create another – not one of beautiful existence. There was no love and no new breath, only shattered glass and muggy air. It is a treasure yet to be cherished.
/~/
If light existed than gold would glisten, "It's all the same for the Dreamers," Hazel would dazzle, "It's all the same," And porcelain would radiate, "… For us…" An Earth bound Angel, "Utilize surrendering, when silence falls," But light does not exist, "To you it sings, sterilize your mentality, compromise your reality," In the darkness she succumbs to the Winters edge; Earth bound, Hell bound, there is no longer a distinction.
/~/
Though she is gone the broken souls remain – fragmented all the more. There is no peace, no happy ever after. Heaven will not grant it. No mercy on those who break what was – the timeless tradition disregarded.
/~/
"Restful mind and peaceful eyes," Mind and soul crumble, eaten away by the darkness blossoming from within, "When sound is gone, then you will find," It is self induced in a hopes to numb what was, "It's all the same for the Dreamers," To leave this Hell on Earth, "it's all the same," And join what lies beyond in a world where the sun never fades and butterflies never die, "… For us…"