And If I could write about his soul it would take me to the moon

It is sprinkling like wafts of air
It touches my nose
Covered in butterflies
My head
Your Toes

I am a butterfly

What is the clutter on the ground
Dripping water like dew on trees
A song for the blackest bird

Imagining the clouds in air
They hover delicately
Drinking raindrops from me

I lie underneath the tree listening
To the sound of raindrops falling on my skin

Leaves in the night, they glare beneath the moon
My moon, a syncopated code I long to know, which stays with me even when I sleep, I dream to know

The meaning of what I need to know, each dull flap of my butterflies wings

Body in mind
Earth in soul
Falling in the rainstorm

A cold mountain

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