The Nature of Hope

A clockwork butterfly
With hodgepodge parts,
Metal and tissue paper wings
And the dream of flight
Spreads its wings and waits for a breeze.

Without the strength
For a textbook takeoff,
It flutters and flaps
With parts that don't quite fit
Like they should.

Striving for the freedom
Of a life in the clouds,
It strains skyward
Toward the blue and white
Toward the dream of something more.

A sudden breeze blows through
Tattered and heavy wings
Giving birth to hope
And its heart soars
As feet lift from the ground slightly.

The gust transforms in an instant,
To something more terrifying
Something surreal and sudden
Something too abrupt for tissue paper wings
Rent so quickly from their metal supports

The wind is gone,
A brief taste of heaven
Tore the newly formed wings
Completely from the body
Red and black, wasted, lost to the winds of hope

Eyes skyward, it wonders
How it could have better prepared
For such an ill-fated plan.
The maker had ensured it had the right parts
But it could not have anticipated the nature of the wind.