It controlled the beating of my heart;
the low thunder of a storm rolled down the mountainsides and echoed across the valley.
Provence has the biggest butterflies I've ever seen.
With wings like rosepetals, white and fully grown
The winds didn't stop to give it flyingspace, but still, it fluttered,
being pulled, swayed by great sails in stormy gusts.
It's the simple things that strips Life of its impossible complexities.
Simple things that flush out fears like they never had any weight,
as if they never had any grip on you.
