The Flutter of Butterfly Wings

Can you hear them? They are flapping somewhere... those wings. Glorious golden, red, blue, green wings each at their own pace and rhythm.

Where will i be when the storm hits? Will i even care when it does?

It makes me wonder what type of storm it will be at times. . . then again i just hope that i won't be stuck cleaning it up.

Generally many of the facets that make up this life are fine, yet there are other bits which if not careful makes for one hell of a mind trap... but then there are other little tricks to escape those at times.

Sleep provides some escape, but there are times i'm curious to know just what am i dreaming about. Could my subconscious be trying to protect the conscious from those things lost in that space between wakings?

Then again maybe i just need a vacation. . . as many times it's just to damn easy to over think things. Just have to remember that Occam's razor is sharp and i may find it has done me when everything is said and done. :P