Anxiety

Anxious butterflies flourish in my stomach and the wind from which their wings echo becomes a deep sadness in the bottom of my heart.

The ocean in my heart stirs wind, water, and sun that rush out of endless motion.

There is a connection made.

The butterfly’s wings are still. I am at ease. If a butterfly lands on you, you are blessed. When the butterflies are still my stomach is as though a small srping feed pond where the bullfrog sings ocasional hyms.