Iris and Psyche
In a place much closer than you may think lies a Jardin Sauvage in which exists flora of every size, shape and hue.
Lilies and roses, daisies and violets nestle together in well-defined cliques, some small and some large, sharing the sun and happy to be in each other’s company. Some cliques have large and gaudy flowers whereas others contain small, colourless and underdeveloped blossoms that are hardly visible to the eye.
Then, of course there are the weeds, many of them superficially pretty and attractive, but there sole raison d’etre is to invade and choke the life out of garden and given sufficient time, and lack of extraction the damage they do to the harmony of the garden becomes all too apparent.
Not very long ago, a newcomer to the garden, Iris, sat amid her small group of friends, head turned toward the afternoon sun when a flickering shadow distracted her thoughts and there appeared before her a vision of astonishing beauty, the personification of Psyche herself......a rare and exotic butterfly which gently alighted onto Iris’s lowest and brightest petal. Directed by the petal’s rays, Psyche found Iris’s source of nectar and began to drink for what seemed an eternity of blissful symbiosis. Flickering her wings and wafting a cooling breeze into her face. Iris had never known such contentment and Psyche’s behaviour suggested that she felt the same.
She lingered for an age and then, in the blink of an eye, Psyche had gone, promising to return soon.
She came back two, three, four times a day and nestled her head deep inside Iris’s flowerhead, probing gently with her proboscis , siphoning the sticky nectar and storing it safe, savouring her delicate aroma. Each time Psyche departed, she took away a tiny part, a quintessence of Iris.
Iris waited patiently. The Jardin Sauvage seemed such a good place to be. In her infatuation, she assumed that it would never end...Psyche and Iris together in the Elysian Fields.....
Slowly, imperceptibly at first, Psyche’s visits became less frequent diminishing in time until......until.....
Iris watched Psyche’s shadow appear, and her nectar flowed in anticipation of Psyche’s touch and she emitted a burst of her scent in a loving attempt to attract Psyche. But the flickering shadow faded as Psyche fluttered by to alight on another more beautiful flower in the garden. Occasionally, Psyche would briefly brush Iris’s petals as she passed by and the garden would be filled with Iris’s silent sobs...
Now the beautiful, exotic butterfly, the magical mariposa would only flutter by......by......by....
Such is the nature of a butterfly....
Flutter by.....flutter by...by....
Bye........
Goodbye.....
Lilies and roses, daisies and violets nestle together in well-defined cliques, some small and some large, sharing the sun and happy to be in each other’s company. Some cliques have large and gaudy flowers whereas others contain small, colourless and underdeveloped blossoms that are hardly visible to the eye.
Then, of course there are the weeds, many of them superficially pretty and attractive, but there sole raison d’etre is to invade and choke the life out of garden and given sufficient time, and lack of extraction the damage they do to the harmony of the garden becomes all too apparent.
Not very long ago, a newcomer to the garden, Iris, sat amid her small group of friends, head turned toward the afternoon sun when a flickering shadow distracted her thoughts and there appeared before her a vision of astonishing beauty, the personification of Psyche herself......a rare and exotic butterfly which gently alighted onto Iris’s lowest and brightest petal. Directed by the petal’s rays, Psyche found Iris’s source of nectar and began to drink for what seemed an eternity of blissful symbiosis. Flickering her wings and wafting a cooling breeze into her face. Iris had never known such contentment and Psyche’s behaviour suggested that she felt the same.
She lingered for an age and then, in the blink of an eye, Psyche had gone, promising to return soon.
She came back two, three, four times a day and nestled her head deep inside Iris’s flowerhead, probing gently with her proboscis , siphoning the sticky nectar and storing it safe, savouring her delicate aroma. Each time Psyche departed, she took away a tiny part, a quintessence of Iris.
Iris waited patiently. The Jardin Sauvage seemed such a good place to be. In her infatuation, she assumed that it would never end...Psyche and Iris together in the Elysian Fields.....
Slowly, imperceptibly at first, Psyche’s visits became less frequent diminishing in time until......until.....
Iris watched Psyche’s shadow appear, and her nectar flowed in anticipation of Psyche’s touch and she emitted a burst of her scent in a loving attempt to attract Psyche. But the flickering shadow faded as Psyche fluttered by to alight on another more beautiful flower in the garden. Occasionally, Psyche would briefly brush Iris’s petals as she passed by and the garden would be filled with Iris’s silent sobs...
Now the beautiful, exotic butterfly, the magical mariposa would only flutter by......by......by....
Such is the nature of a butterfly....
Flutter by.....flutter by...by....
Bye........
Goodbye.....
11 years ago
Please know, sweetheart, that you are not now, nor ever will be, without friends who *sincerely* want nothing for you but success, happiness and a brilliant shining light in your beautiful heart.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvXO2IsQ6xY