“Words are for meaning: when you’ve got the meaning, you can forget the words”
But, Zhuangzi, certain words are meant for remembrance. They rest upon my soul, hover over my spirit, and enter into the chrysalis part of my heart.
There, where black ink transforms into white butterflies I become an Athena. I wear words like an ancient and ageless aegis. My body will tell you how the butterflies quietly return and always revisit with secret silent melodies for my temple of reflections.
White wings fly. White wings float. When I’ve got the meaning that is when I cannot forget the words.
Butterflies, Zhuangzi. White butterflies changing colours like in a dream.