The roots aren’t only for the trees…

Deja Prescott
Nov 3 · 1 min read

And when the butterfly moves,
The clouds feel the wind.
When you breathe, it breathes
Attuned to the music you replay.
When your heart heaves, it leaps
Into the hands of another day.

These golden strings —

Lengthening as you lengthen your soulful imagination,
Attached to delicate fingers,
Dancing with no destinations.
Behind the sunsets of long days
Are soft lights that peep through the trees
They breathe your breath and inhale your unrest.

I see the air as fluid, a sphere of shifting dullness.
And as the pebble is dropped and breaks through the surface,
The magnitude of the ripple is timelessly multiplied.
And so the clouds feel the breeze of a butterfly’s wings
And I feel the sins of friend’s dark yesterday,
Create winds off the shores of Africa.

The roots aren’t only for the trees,
But for the human who sees we are all connected.

‘Butterfly Wings’
A Poem of Connection

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