I was asked by a peer: If incarnation is possible, how do you visualize yourself in the afterlife given that you cannot be a human again?
This poem was my answer to her question.
I can see myself fly
not high as the sky
where I can almost reach the clouds
not under the blazing tropical sun rays
not in the air that could tear my delicate wings
but just far below those toddy trees's shadows
above the ground
in a meadow
where I can freely prance around
flower to flower
leaf to leaf
stalk to branch
where I can taste its bud and kiss its scent
where I can lay my tiny wings on a fresh mown hay
while under a canopy of crepuscular rays
as infinite mirage of nature's beauty
in an eye of a blue butterfly...