We tend not to accept what is surreal,
what we cannot initiate belief in.
We tend not to accept what we cannot understand.
If our questions remain unanswered, we dismiss.
Is the world an obscurity to the butterfly,
or is the butterfly an obscurity to the world?
Regardless, she soars, boundlessly,
primitively unsure, ultimately so certain
that it seems strange to think that once,
she was just a catapillar
waiting to live. ~ Alexis Irvine