Death of the Butterfly
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? – Edgar Allan Poe
While walking withand Paris, we happened upon a dying flutterbee who could not fly due to the tattered wings. At first we thought we were just fortunate enough to finally get a shot of one being so still, but with further inspection, we realized we were witnessing its last moments.
I got the poor dear to climb up on my finger and placed it up in a tree. I believed it to be the right thing to do; let it die in peace rather than being swarmed by marching ants.
What an interesting blur…
Sitting on my finger with life coursing just below the surface, the butterfly spent some of its last few moments…
The cycle of life and the boundaries of such things is terrifying and wondrous.