Her sight grew dim as she walked down the trail,

the light fading with the setting of the sun.

In the absence of vision her ears perked up,

listening for every whisper among the trees,

every twig that snapped under her feet.

The moon would rise soon, so she carried on,

not waiting for the beams to illuminate the way,

to that secret place she ventured toward,

the precipice of her journey.

In the distance, a clearing from the forest opened,

she drew closer to that point.

In her hand, she held a small flower.

The moon rose in the distance between the peaks,

the beams danced off her dark brown eyes,

making them shine like the evening stars.

She took a seat, holding the flower before her,

and let out a sigh. The trip was symbolic only,

today there would be no immediate change,

but change had to be made.

She looked out to the valley below,

the moon shimmering off the lake and river,

while the town’s streetlights still glowed.

A single tear fell from her eyes,

bounced on the petals, then rolled off.

She smiled with a pained grimace,

both relieved but also sad.

Slowly, she let go of that flower,

watching it float on the wind.

That night, the beautiful blossom changed

into a glorious butterfly with wings.