July 5, 2012

the butterfly

The butterfly never learned to fly, but she was beautiful. Oh, so beautiful.


  1. I feel sad,
    I feel blue.
    I go outside and rub my cold fingers-
    on the sleek shell of the silent night.
    I see that all lights of contact are dark,
    All lanes to relate us- are blocked.
    Nobody will introduce me to the sun,
    Nobody will take me- to the gathering of doves.
    Keep the flight in mind,
    The bird may die.
    By: Forough Farokhzad

  2. this is of particular interest to me.