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lyrical trance & dark mythic/transgressive fiction by lilimist

the butterfly vow by lilimist

 

A romantic creation myth about a butterfly who wakes up from her cocoon too late and a star who falls to earth to save her.

{ first written & released by Vixen Phillips in 2004 }

I.

Aeons ago, when all the world had first begun to shake herself free of winter’s seemingly endless stranglehold, seven angels fell to earth to craft of her canvas the artworks of their dreams. In a silence broken only by the soft song of their wings, they worked day and night in a fever of inspiration, to weave there the oceans, mountains and forests, rivers and streams, shorelines and deserts, and fields of eternal green. And, when they were done with these perennial sculptings, they turned both hand and heart to more ephemeral musings — flowers, trees, birds, bees — and at the very last the most delicate of them all emerged with a handful of crystalline cocoons, which housed, she whispered in the shyest of lights, tiny likenesses of them each: flowers that could dance, to remind all those who would later come of the joys of the free, heart-strengths of the fragile, and the preciousness of the temporary. Her siblings smiled, embracing her near, for they too knew such value simply by having come here — now their task was complete, and no more dreams were there to weave, they must fall into the earth, and abide with her there as one in eternal sleep.

Long was the night that curtained these hours, witnessed only by the stars who gathered near to exalt and to grieve, but then at the last rose the greatest star of all on the eastern horizon, and the dreams of these angels began at once to breathe.

First came the stirring of trees and grasses, roused by the caress of a gentle spring breeze; next swelled the song of a dozen painted rainbows, the birds letting fly their hearts over the mountains and valleys; this in turn awoke the flowers, who oh-so-shyly uncovered their faces and dressed one another in their petaled finery, their shivers subsiding gradually as the sun’s light kissed them each. The streams and rivers began to flow, rushing over the rocks and plains and hills, so anxious to see of this birthing wonderland all there was to see.

And at twilight on that newest of days, a nightingale began to sing, blessing all with hope for another dawn, casting aside the darkness’ fear. It was, haloed by the beauty of such a song, the moment in which the first cocoon murmured and trembled, and all the flowers started and wondered, even as they drifted back to sleep.

So, on the second day, which saw a replay of this scene, did that first cocoon shatter within the sun’s embrace, and, yawning but ever graceful, the first of all butterflies gently shook out his sticky rainbowed wings, and fluttered round his still-slumbering brethren in an elegant spiral, before alighting on a wondering daffodil to await their awakening.

Sure enough, with the passing of only a sprinkling of butterfly’s heartbeats, the second cocoon began to tremble, and soon there were two pairs of rainbowed wings dancing giddily around the daffodil, who smiled her approval golden-warm and announced, in agreeance with a nearby stream, “You are very beautiful indeed!”

And the butterflies rejoiced, knowing such love, and with more and more of the sweetest impatience did they await the unveiling of the remainder of their kin.

Three cocoons… four… five, then six… now all but one butterfly had dreamt itself free. And each were eager to delight the world that lay beyond daffodils and the meadow of their birthing.

But the first butterfly, who had overseen all the others’ dawning, insisted they wait just a little longer for their unborn sibling, though he more than any felt this restless need for dancing. So they waited and waited while the sun rose on high, and their starry little hearts were near to bursting. At the last the newest butterfly could bear it no longer, setting herself free on a sudden gust of wind. “I must dance for the world, while I am able!” she cried. “Will you not come with me?”

The Butterfly Vow by lilimist   Page 1 of 16   writing

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