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Storms of life


The lifespan of a butterfly,

Is one of struggling toil,

From crawling caterpillar

To pupas toiling coil.

Caterpillar stage, just weeks long,

Pupa, can be two years

As a flying butterfly,

Four weeks or less, those dears.


Eventually the beauty shows

Their patterned, coloured, wings

I'm sure, that in their language,

Though we can't hear, she sings.

No announcement, weather forecast,

To them, innate it seems,

The sunny dryer climate,

Has them enjoy sun's beams.


Whene'er it rains, the butterfly,

Will rest, their wings, can't use,

So they'll relax from labouring

'Til clearer day, she views.

Since Creator made the butte'fly, 

HE also, mankind made,

We too, our rest times needed

Lest energy does fade.


Whene'er we go through trials,

Stand back, let go, take rest,

Recharge 'til we're more able,

Then we can show our best.





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