How Dare We Drift Freely

Butterflies and stars have an oddity in common,

When the wind blows and the clouds shove,

Their way through the night sky between them,

And we feel the breeze nudging,

Moving winged magic along with it,

As hard as we peer beneath them,

We are lost to see what keeps them,

From falling upon the nearest thing beneath them,

And in this life, we heedlessly share,

In this wonderfully deep secret,

For, as we glide by glib eyes,

And drift along in this season,

We do so within a state of love,

That the average heart won’t believe in,

Loving blindly, profoundly, richly,

For no earthly reason,

And as the winged carriers of hope,

Flit and flutter in dreamlike litheness,

And the stars twinkle in weightless balance,

Held up by heavenly fingers,

We rise and fall, never reaching troughs,

That tether adeptly to lesser spirits,

As if buoyed by mystic limbs,

That forbid ladened thoughts,

From weighing upon,

The lightness of our feelings,

And to most, we are a mystery,

To them, flush with foolish bravery,

Filled with fire that could but brutalize,

But jeopardize the sage sanity,

Of moderation, of liking strongly,

Loving carefully, if at all,

At least less madly,

Yet, we orbit, and we drift,

Nakedly, Effortlessly,

Freely.