The Blue Butterfly

The blue azure sky cramming with the kaleidoscopic hues of spring, while the teasing wind is cascading gently through the bosoms of tulips and dahlias. Nature stands like aphrodite artifying all the beauties in its skin as if the art is the only antidote to survival. An enraptured blue butterfly giggles through the flowers leaving the sweet message of love. Her wings, wrapped in the melodious tunes of Rabindranath, are flipping from one flower to another while she whispering the verses of serene, slightly through a different tone. The air never smelled redolent like this as if God has taken a flight to sublime in the dust catching nature's wonder is busy wrestling for just. This world has seen a lot, bled a lot, feared a lot, this world never forgets the blood-sucking wars and their deities celebrating on its crushed heart just like a remorseful winter where ice grows thinner under the feet, but this time it's different, the wheels of time has rolled on and the world soaked its blood, stitched its soul to welcome the spring with the magnificent struggle of art.

The pioneer is the bluest beauty, who gleefully wanders here and there and her innocuous elegance seeds the sprouts of poetry even to the barren hearts. My vision as far as it can be stretched, only sees the fruit plants garlanding her with the warmest welcome and her feet sprints and kiss them tenderly to signalize the upcoming blessed faces of fruits. Her bewitching turquoise tint scribbles songs to the soul of a nomadic bard, she has a sack of positivity, sings the blissful aubade and serenade to fascinate lives and rejuvenate the decomposed minds. This earth waits for more, wants her to unveil all the spells in a jiffy. Restlessly she flies, wearing the mellow tunes of meadow, ornamenting every nook and corner with gold, lighting the hope up and vanquishing the fragility in a blink of eyes.