the fleeting moment ...

'The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough...'  
[Rabindranath Tagore]

ah ... as the butterfly
so too the flower ...

and for both 
in death 
such delicate capitulation 
colours that so subtly fade
as if not to tear our hearts too soon 
with their absence 

echoing life
their soft open forms
a silent supplication 
with such grace
in the place
between two worlds 

as the butterfly
so too the flower ...

so may we ... 
welcome the infinite
be our moments many or few