Winter Solstice

Tired of the darkness within,
A young butterfly ripped out its chrysallis,
Ready to dance under the morning sun,
Eager to taste the waiting nectar.

But ---
Darkness and permafrost awaited,
With the gust of wintry wind it fell dead.

Delicate wings frozen
It did not realized,
That in the world outside ---
All are sadness,
All are death.