Catching Butterflies

A mystery of mysteries
Of this I will admit
To see a butterfly
In this barren wasteland

For some time now,
My health has been low
And the doctors come by
With their glasses and their gin
I prefer a softer sound
The breeze through the forest trees

And then the forest faded
And I was left only with twigs
Brown dirt - a desert of it
Covered the world of men

I lay myself down under the sky
And look up to the stars shimmering
Yet as I stare at the unchanging sea of lights
What should I see but a butterfly

I lift up my hand
For I wish to catch it
And hold it to my heart
But it's out of my reach

Slowly, I stood, dizziness overcoming me
But I ignore it
My sights are set only to the butterfly
That flaps its colorful wings like a beacon

I will follow this little butterfly
Wherever she shall lead me
And once I catch this butterfly
I'll find the freedom, so let me be