Tuesday, July 5, 2011


It clung on to the wood panels that framed the door's glass. It was reminiscent of the monarch butterfly, the one with a rare shade of green. I haven't seen one in years - the most vivid memory was from those that graced familiar atis tree of my childhood. Its rear left wing was broken - a scar from a close call with death most likely.

I touched it, inexplicably drawn and utterly mystified. Its wings moved at the disturbance, but it showed no desire to leave. I looked at the guard close by - his eyes were close. I took the frail thing and clasped it in my hands. It got startled, and weakly struggled for a brief moment before settling down. I took it into the building, swiped past many doors and soon found my locker before me.

I placed it inside, carefully, and opened the the vents wide. I observed it for a good three minutes and smiled, wistful.

You will not succumb to the ants.

I closed my locker, albeit hesitantly, and went back to the floor to take calls.

That was four days ago.

The day before yesterday, I took it outside, and placed it atop the nearby bush. It fell, and could not grasp the leaves and stem anymore. It struggled, and fluttered its wings, but it only fell into the growth.

I took it back and placed it inside my locker. I looked at its many eyes, their many facets betrayed it and made me perceive its intelligence, its sentience, and its failing, before heading back in.

I opened my locker yesterday to find it still, it was graceful in death: its wings did not droop, and its legs were clasped, seemingly at peace with its surrender. It resides there still, and come friday, it will find itself in a jar. 

That jar will find itself home upon a shelf hours later, and the butterfly shall be one with the earth.

You will not succumb to the ants.


Thank You, iring, for everything. We'll meet down the road someday, share a laugh, an embrace, and our success. I hope work turns out good for you. You can sleep without guilt over week-long silences now. You are right. It is for the best.

Adele - Someone Like You Mp3


  1. butterflies have short lives. no matter how we help it, they'll eventually just die on us.

  2. by the way, this(the butterfly thing) really happened. :)

  3. You sound like such a gentle person. I would've just let it be. Don't let go of that. It's a trait that's always gone too soon.

    And this song is pure love.

  4. "I thought it over
    And it was plain to see the love you said you once needed
    Could just not come from me

    And now it's over
    Both of us free
    And I feel colder

    And now we're moving to new beginnings
    But as we move we looked once behind
    To see what we might find out
    Lost loves and old thoughts of our nights of winnings
    That lunge, tear and grasp
    at lost wanting minds"

    Hey Spiral, this too shall pass, like the others. Take it from an old man like me.


  5. the butterfly in the post reminded me of two different but somehow behaviorally similar people.

    like Kane, I'd say that this, too, shall be a point of departure. to arrive where, or when, it is of your being pilot.

  6. hey du. all will be well...

  7. why is it that when i read your blog, i always end up with sad entries. I always say this, theres a reason for everything. Romans 8:28