The Butterfly Effect

When breath becomes air, over here, air becomes breath over there.
Don’t mourn me, a life well lived, not cut short.
She told me that once, years ago.
Life is just a series of stories, some long, some short, some unfinished.
Death is just the beginning of a new chapter.
The characters maybe strange but their souls are deeply familiar.
A different form, on another day, in a new setting.

And so, it was, when they came, a swarm, a flutter, a rabble,
a kaleidoscope of butterflies to anoint her body.
Once aged skin, glowed golden again with the dewy mist of youth.
How beautiful she was in that moment, as the breath of her soul was freed.
I glimpsed her as she was meant to be.
Forever young.