The Butterfly Collector

I fear being held down

like a butterfly with its wings pinned to a board

looking around and wondering what I have yet to encounter

panic at the though I never will

an itch inside that can only be scratched

by flying alone to the unseen and unknown

but I see myself in my collector

cherishing the beauty of life within my home

wondering, if I leave, will I miss out something magnificent

will I fail to collect the memories and joys of simplicity

of the comfortable love that surrounds me

like Orpheus, I look back in doubt of what I cannot see

hesitant to put my trust into the hands of life

I am the butterfly, wings pinned to a board of my own self-making

hesitant to rip off my trammels knowingly

beating against them in my dreams nontheless