24 November 2014 "Butterfly"

I've never been very good at interpretations. Things always tend to get bigger and more complex than they should be. I can't look at a poem about a butterfly and understand immediately that what the author meant to convey was justice and innocence and the fleeting nature of life and beauty.

Because sometimes a butterfly is just a butterfly. a two-winged creature that floats

in the wind and lands softly in a place to rest. Sometimes a butterfly is simplicity; sometimes the meaning of a butterfly is its nature. A butterfly's life is spent kissing flowers, not caring whether it comes in contact with any of the right people or metaphors. And in the morning when a butterfly flits by my vision, I don't see beauty itself, but instead I see a beautiful butterfly.

I don't like to pick things apart and squeeze the meaning out of every fiber; sometimes it is the most meaningful to understand that beauty comes from recognition of the whole. Personally, i think the word butterfly does a fine job of grasping the beauty of the creature. Not because the letters put together form the most wonderful word of all, but because I know what a butterfly is, and when i hear her name the most beautiful butterfly i can imagine comes flitting through my mind. And maybe she is not blue like the author intended. And maybe she flies much to quickly and maybe she does not land on the most perfect flower of all, but she is a creature of my mind and that is the most beautiful thing. She does not have to symbolize anything bigger than what she is, and i suppose that she is the one who makes it the most difficult for me to grasp the picture of someone else's imagined owner of the name butterfly.