perhaps white butterflies
come back as seagulls
or better yet the small
fluffy clouds that take
shape as other things
and shift their shapes
until they disappear
it's just the same as
the perpetual march
of the flora fountain
diminishing daffodils
bow out to iris glory
for them to yield to
heavy lily perfumes
for all blooming beauty
to yield only to even more
within the heart of
the divine and eternal
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