I danced with a
snow white moth,
up and down
the mountain,

this messenger
of metamorphosis
reminding me
to bring what’s dark
to light.

Old hills
breathed green
while new sky
sang blue,
and on a pink laden
bed of tundra
we whispered secrets
understood by few.

You must lose yourself
to find yourself
with each shed
of yester skin,
she sweetly sounds.

And when your heart
can soar with
true intent and
purity of wing-

Then you too,
my dear like me,
will finally
fly free.