An international blog about literature and ecocriticism. Here I include my own lyrics, by Rui M. and also the work of others, from 10 to 14 each month 2017: new contributions sent to Periodical Art contests and Critics. Thanks. Arigatou

Mai 09





Part III




But then reality shook up the writer of this story,

like a sharp, thin and strong current of cool air.

He started to think about how the reader would

see the story. And frightened by the thought:

"If I had known that this story could be read as a

real one, I would have written it differently", he stopped.

There might be another end, a happy one, if the reader

wants it, but at the moment this is the end he intended

me to let you know. It gives light to the dark

side of reality. He hopes not to waist your time.

But enough of talking, here it is... the end.

He stopped and returned home, next day would be

another usual working day. Suddenly, when he passed

the last corner, before the last garden before

reaching home, he found her. Dead on the floor

with the wings dissolved... He looked steadily

and tried to put them together again, but

without success. How could his love die like that?

The colours of her wings were no longer those of

life, but colours of death and sorrow. He wasn’t able

to find her on time and save her from that miserable

misfortune. He should have had time to nurture their

love. Finally, he took his sword of the modern times

(the invisible one) and swore to save the dignity

of his dead love and fight those that kept him away

from her. Nevertheless, he was certain that his search for

justice had been accomplished.

He knew that if he would ever see her again the

butterfly no longer existed.

Love is like that, a vulnerable butterfly that entangles two people

together, if the beholders recognise it in each others' eyes.

If he is not recognised or nurtured he flies,

and by metamorphosis acquires the shape of another

person. He will transform himself just like in the Chinese text!...

A feeling that no text can completely portray.

And the writer wishes me to add: "life itself

can be a butterfly, a dream that when you

run after it, evil people want to destroy it... so

prepare yourself for a stormy ocean when you start


your journey to the island of dreams."

The end



published by talesforlove às 12:46