Coloured Wings

Butterfly, a wonderful insect, viewed as a symbol of freedom, cheerfulness, zeal and vigor, a dutiful member of the food chain, A spring is unimaginable in the absence of these lovable fluttering insects, to the poets, playwright and also to the scientists.

I had a thought about them too, sort of interesting. Why do we humans have an insatiable penchant for the bright and glitterati, with the example of the Butterfly, I want to put across my point, the butterfly is an ugly looking caterpillar, which morphs itself in a cocoon into a brightly coloured butterfly. How many times have you admired, or heard people admire a caterpillar, photographed them and cherishing the cocoon etc. Come spring when the lazy, ugly worm flies out to be a brightly coloured insect, from photographers to artists, to writers to poets go romantic and ecstatic in praising the butterfly. Scientists and nature enthusiasts run over hills and vales to catch, admire them and cherish their vibrantly coloured and brilliantly patterned wings.

When the insect dies, it’s the wings that are stored in books and jars; we value those colours bright, and NOT the life that brought them to light.

Think of a human in place of that butterfly, we hardly treat them in a manner different to these flies….

What you were? no one would want

To know; What you will be? will not count.

If now, you are a man of worth;

You’ll be crowned as the greatest on Earth.

Tomorrow when you stumble upon death;

Retaining the worth, they’ll lay you down with a wreath.

* correction in red....