The Butterfly's Silence

A butterfly alights where dreams begin,
Upon a shoulder, bare and warm with sleep.
The books lie still, and no one enters in,
While ancient winds their secrets safely keep.One eye awakens, one eye still remains
Lost in the mist, uncertain which is true,
Adrift above the hush of distant plains,
And both feel certain of the world they view.The teacup waits, its painted blossoms pale,
The open book lies patient at her hand,
And nothing in the quiet will unveil
Which dream is hers and which the waking land.Perhaps the truth that seekers hope to find
Is born when they surrender up the mind.