Like a Butterfly

Truth lingers like a butterfly
on the edge of a flower
And we chase it
like children at play
At play but in serious pursuit
We long to catch this truth
this floating, fleeting, flying
display of obvious beauty
We long to grasp it
not only with our hands
not even especially with our hands
but with our eyes
in our minds
in our hearts
We long to hold this beauty
fluttering, ephemeral, eternal truth
For in this flapping of the wings
and moving of antennae
we see and sense
the Real
And the Real in us
calls to the Real before us
seen and touched and met by us
Like a butterfly on our fingertips
Real meets Real
And we chase and follow
drawn by the eternal magnetism
of Beauty and Truth