THE BUTTERFLY COLLECTOR

The butterfly collector
a net clutched in his hand
Is poised and quite determined
to catch all he can

He wants to capture beauty
the colors and intrigue
To walk beyond endurance
impervious to fatigue

When speciments of wonder
enthrall his keen eyed view
Emerge the seasoned hunter
to quietly persue

The wonderous butterfly
so carefree and naive
Unawere of what awaits
the tricks that fate will weave

Something sweet mysterious
flutters past the pine
He's come upon a forest
lucious and devine

Hurriedly he follows
dogged on the trail
Chasing down the glory
a new speciment entail

Day slips into dusk
nipping at the night
Yet he keeps the prize
clearly in his sight

A carnival of treasures
a bounty for the bold
Summon the spirit enduring
persistance reaping gold

Errant leaves sulk in silence
abandoned by the wind
Castaways of courage
crumbling from within

In vibrant splendor
it rests upon a glade
Wings flapping softly
to enticingly persuade

The butterfly collector
circles his prey
With a rush of excitement
when the game is in play

Closer and closer
so light on his toes
Adrenalines nectar
paints sweat on his brow

With imperceptible motion
he lowers his net
Unsuspecting he remains
that a trap has been set

Now beauty resides in
a prison made of glass
Lonely looking out
at the green, green grass

At first a humble trickle
At first only a few
Then the savage skies erupt
winged assassins pour into view

They all descend upon him
a foul and vengeful storm
They gag, choke and control him
a puppet to the swarm

Blind he's rendered helpless
breath close like a noose
It's too late to surrender
It's too late for a truce

His feet no longer touching
the ground once safe and sound
He soars above the treetops
too frightened to look down

As the sunset burns behind him
through the vacant night they fly
Past the mangled moon
with haste across the sky

Curious is the fascination
with life's ebb and flow
How, where, when, why
do we really want to know

A church is cast in shadows
built with blessed stone
It leans against tomorrow
those who come never feel alone

The butterfly solution
Don't turn the other cheek
Do unto others
vengeance is what they seek

The butterfly collector
tumbles from the sky
There's no devine intervention
when it's your time to die

They found him in the morning
the spire trough his head
Pinned as if by a needle
in the display case of the dead