Sometimes beauty is found in a painted picture, that only the artists comprehends. Sometimes power is felt in a dance, that only the performers understand. And sometimes there is a magnificence in words, that only the writer can translate. Perhaps, that is the beauty of art, allowing each of us to reach our own conclusion. From Toronto, Canada a young writer presents The White Butterfly. The beauty in his words, lies in the mystery of their intent.

21st Century (R)Evolution

Originally written September 1, at 3 p.m.


Tranquil. That’s how I’d describe the moment. But not a good type of tranquility: it isn’t the kind that simply drowns out the background noise and let’s you get lost in your own thoughts; it’s not the kind that soothes every nerve to the point of ecstasy. This tranquility is almost superficial. It is what is imposed on you by the elements – by circumstance.

It is the dead calm of the day. It is the single and distant bird whistle or squawk. It is the all-too-audible humming of some machine. It is the lonesome white butterfly making its way through the wind, seemingly lost. The sky torments me: the dead, grey lump above me that threatens me with a deluge, but dares not move a muscle. It doesn’t even breathe hard, for the trees don’t dance. A few shake their…

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  1. I am pleased to announce that you have been awarded the the Shauny Award for Blogging Excellence! 🙂
    Here’s how you collect your prize.

    1) Follow the link:
    2) Copy and and paste the image into a post and make a list.
    3) Once posted then send a comment to the bloggers on your nominations list sharing the award.
    *Note I just followed the advice of the person who nominated us, since this is our first award.

    Warm Regards,


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