Perspective from a broken place,
where debris hides her view,
impedes attempts to faintly trace,
the form of what is true.
Her current state can be defied,
though introspection found,
a caterpillar flicked aside,
discarded on the ground.
But this deluding scene distorts,
her focus, dim and blurred,
in search through darkly shadowed courts,
for light so long deferred.
From warped belief, she turns away,
to look with gold lensed eyes,
perceiving on a sunlit day,
a butterfly arise.
