where the writers are
The Butterfly and the Star

I’ve become acquainted with the butterfly
And with the Evening Star.
Their lives are one you see;
Together, though near and far.

But where do I belong, and how?
Ah, the butterfly and the star,
Oblivious to each other,
Know not emotion; they simply are.

If only she could tell me
Of all the things she’s done,
Of everything she’s seen
Careening ‘cross the sun.

But delicate butterflies
Are lost on an autumn breeze
And the star-the miracle of stars-
Sees not, but must be seen.

Slowly I begin
To understand my plight:
A butterfly happens by
And I celebrate God’s might.

Nature’s warm voice,
Not heard, but felt inside,
Opened up my heart to sing
Loving praises to Him on High.

The wheels of life, though turning,
Are often halted just for me,
And then, with tears of joy,
I dwell in splendid captivity.