Imagine if the devil played with butterflies
It’s true, he is evil
But this doesn’t mean he didn’t curl his toes in sand
Stare at clouds and cry on sight.
He is strong.
Long he does for the days of light again
But he carries a burden just like a mother
Smother himself and bathe in fire
As he knows without him good would neither exist.
Tired he never grew
He learned to twist his appeal for butterflies
Into a luring game before he would kill it.
We should never stop fighting the devil
In fact we should seek to meddle with his life
Until he can strive no longer.
But he will always exist, he needs to.
In the crevices of our books, our torn history.
The salt of tears and ocean will remind us of his power
But that burden he carried, knowing he carried light
He knows it’s coming to kill him
With every ounce of its might.
Green Dharma 