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Butterflies at Nightfall

The delicacy of innate confessions in evening ripples of summoned destiny relieved the vision of sunshine dreams for the romance of the poised, adorned earthly shadow. Nightfall was an expectant, dancing tranquility that set him adrift in seas of chirping crickets and bullfrog guard. He took comfort in the misty darkness, the shade of a sunshine mosaic, the cloak of velvet palaces and pinpoint tufts of starlight. The moon believed the evidence of enchanted summer nights as it reflected the luminous providence of ivory beams across sylvan mossy vistas and the warm rows of saffron bloom.

The infinite lifeblood of destinations in obedience to the desires of unbound essence and cherished rebel triumph, flowed in rhythm with the invitation to wonder. The night paused for a brief moment and the divinity of the configuration became visible. A mystery of emancipation for mankind, a presumption of butterflies in flight.

He had dreamed of the monarchs and the unqualified fortune of wandering, timid rarity. He had seen them in his dreams, his bewilderment in meadowlands of sleep. Today was the day, the drawn healing of spirit in gods revolution of souls, the birth of bidden winged angels. He continued to watch through the night as thousands of flittering butterflies came to the keep with the promise of eternity.

Story by:

Ron Koppelberger

submitted at 12:20pm

12 September 2010