Love is like a butterfly
never here nor there
high or low
not really watching where to go.

A first love is like a butterfly
hatching out of a cocoon
we are amazed by the beauty
of this new feeling.

True love is like a butterfly
spreading its wings
and starting towards the sky
knowing that they want to have this forever.

Loosing love is like a butterfly
laying its eggs then flying away to die
leaving them in this big world all alone
knowing nothing familiar only home.

Wanting for love is like a butterfly
still as a caterpillar
wanting those wings
to be just like his friends.

Love is like a butterfly
Trying to spread its wings and fly
Love is like a butterfly
It can stay or it can die.

lizzy Sydney

If god is nature
Or encompasses nature
Or created nature
Then one must use nature
To converse with god
Dancing with butterflies
And listening to seashells
And burning bushes

É preciso ter ritmo ao acordar,

É preciso ter ritmo a trabalhar,

É preciso ter ritmo a rir,

É preciso ter ritmo a chorar.

É preciso ter ritmo a dançar,

É preciso ter ritmo a descansar,

É preciso ter ritmo a dormir,

É preciso ter ritmo a sonhar.

É preciso ter ritmo a respirar,

É preciso ter ritmo a andar,

É preciso ter ritmo a correr,

É preciso ter ritmo ao parar.

É preciso ter ritmo…

I close my eyes and I can vision my sunset laid across the water with clouds gently placed on top. The yellow is so bright that it consumes my thoughts I fall deeper into the colors of the sun so that I could touch the orange glow, what a soft feeling, my sunset.

My sunset takes me to another place and time where there will be no problem to tall to overcome. This vision is imbedded in my mind it is like a river running free a clear thought on a sunny day and it ends with my sunset and me.

My sunset frees my thoughts from confusion it leads me to believe that I am on top of the world, setting me free to score over the waters of my mind.

My sunset places me in a part of heaven where the day comes to an end with the beauty of my sunset.

Kimbaline Navas (she who waits)