To be a lark, and not a delusory instinct to be awake;

Reminds me of the fortitude, of the morning seeker.

He yearns, but for a day full of gratitude and not to be a forlorn,

Transparent that he is with the day, as the day pass by,

Milking the might of the sunshine, as the day pass by,

Joy is just a boon, the resultant seeds of commitment.

If living in a cocoon, blinds one of disparity,

The freedom of a butterfly, nourishes the clarity,

Because with it, arises the curiosity,

Is the world akin, meant to be the way of the butterfly?

Surely, we don’t want any blemishes,

At least not, when we are awake,

Because more joy is to be reaped,

Not wanting to be a sober, beyond the morning glory,

In the fathom of all this,

He yearns a life, to be the epitome,

But, Is the path of the butterfly, be without blemishes?