a beautiful life - random thought.

The white wings of the butterfly flicked through the air, tangy with a slight smell of salt and pushed by a gentle breeze.

"What purpose does a butterfly have in its short life? It is born on ripe leaves during the budding spring, frolicks among the flowers during summertime, and disappears into dust amid the falling autumn leaves. Yet in the grand scheme of nature made by the Lord, it has a part and purpose. If it lives aside from that though, it has no purpose to its life at all.

... Just as we are, I guess? Just as we are."

The butterfly flew on, as the warm sun continues to shine.


Beautiful song this is, ain't it?