There, a butterfly surfs on the air.
It knows not where it goes
Or where it came from.
Effortless to my sight,
It’s wings are in uplifting flight,
It asks not why it is here,
Or wishes for a life after life.
It counts but this moment,
For beauty in the now,
Is the truth somehow.
Wow!
There a butterfly, surfs on the air.
It need not possess, when flowers are
your dress,
A moth it was, it seems but not anymore
but a dream.
Its beauty to my eyes is its beauty held inside,
It sublimely glides.
I feel like but defeated, being a human,
Entangled, learned, seated.
There, a butterfly, surfs on the air.
Gaurav Chakrabarti 