“I have left chasing butterflies”,
The marooned soldier cries.
“And left all the colour impasse,
For which so long I had made a chase.
For they were doomed;
A devil beautiful-heaven groomed”

With a heavy heart the soldier continues,
Words of wisdom dipped in blues,
“For long I had chased a butterfly,
That flew not so high.
It’s wings were red and blue,
With some blackish dots too.

And how gleeful it looked,
Unfazed by the monster crooked!
One day it landed on my arm,
That made me gasp a cry so warm-
‘Oh what a lovely butterfly it is !
A soul free- a beauty not at all amiss.’

It landed on my hand,
And promised me, ‘I’ll forever be your friend.
In times happy and gay,
I’ll shower colours on your way;
Or in times of sorrow and despair
You’ll always find me in your air.’”

Days went by and seasons passed.
The soldier and the butterfly became friends steadfast.
And with every passing day their bond only grew stronger.
The wickedest witch could split them no longer.
For the butterfly, the soldier was the one in the world important most.
The butterfly’s love too, the soldier would boast.

The soldier’s eye’s glitters with a momentary sparkle,
As he impassionedly resumes his tale,
“One day the butterfly said to me ‘I love you’.
I was thrilled to hear it and wanted to hear it anew.
So I asked it ‘Did you mean me ?’
‘Of course, you!’ It said, ‘Who else it would be?’

Hearing this my heart danced in ecstasy,
For throughout my life I had been so lonely,
Struggling though life- battles won and lost;
And when the troop felt I was of no use I was abandoned,
Leaving me behind scarred in a deserted land.
Where for miles you’ll see nothing but sand.”

Thus here he was- hurt and pained.
Counting perks of life- missed and gained.
Then came the butterfly so colourful and free,
Bringing the soldier joy of the highest degree.
They talked for hours, they talked for days;
From summer haze to autumn rains.

Never did the poor soldier know,
That the butterfly came only to go
Away to some far unseen land,
Where it could find love it can’t withstand
For it was a soul too wild and free
Like the wind not shackled to be.

One winter night- pale and gloomy,
The butterfly spoke in a tone that sounded too looney
“O dear soldier, O soldier my dear!
My love for you is eternal and sincere
But I must fly with the first beam of next sunlight,
For too long I have restrained my flight.

Now is the time to move on,
Seeking new adventures on a new dawn.”
But the soldier could see that it was just a lie.
The love for him- he had felt it die.
Things had changed over the time,
And he could never understand what was his crime.

After reaching the peak the butterfly’s love withered;
It’s indifference what the soldier always feared,
Was what now he always faced.
So the truth the soldier finally embraced,
And set his love free and let it fly.
For days and nights the soldier did cry.

So here he was once again all alone.
His tears dried up and his heart became stone;
Seeking no love, no more wishes,
No more good-mornings or good-night kisses.
‘Love is an illusion’ at last he finds;
A tricking mirage- a figment of delusional minds.

The butterfly, on the other hand, free and merry,
Spent days happily with new friends, flatteringly.
Never did, for once, it miss the soldier;
Never felt his pain- it’s love was bizarre.
Always sought for someone with a little more charm
Flew for miles and landed on his arm.

~KMnO4

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