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...



The End

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