Dream Of The Unborn Butterfly Michael Deerfield Book
by Michael Deerfield

Dream Of The Unborn Butterfly.

My life began when I surrendered my soul to nature, the way falling leaves surrender to the wind.This is when I built my house in the woods .And I built my house without curtains or electrical wires, but I had a garden for nothing grows without a garden . And living this way I was able to come out of my cocoon and in to the life of the butterfly that has no teacher to copy or imitate, for a butterfly knows only "I am here, I am one blink of nature's eye and then I am gone"

Ophelia:-

The life I live began with the flowing river that carried the body of my Ophelia away, upon the rush of time liked ripped out wings from a butterfly, and Ophelia's suicide taught me that love and life cannot last. But I also learnt the little things that whispered in my heart, those little things were barely audible as I journeyed through my life with Ophelia. But now those little things have taught me that much of what I did on a daily basis was of no earth shaking importance, and slowly I have come to appreciate the butterfly in the sky that comes from afar to spread its silver wings for me and then fly away.

But Ophelia never discovered her butterfly in the sky. for she lived her life absorbed by this world's cruel realities which is why she is no longer here, and her thoughts have evaporated . But for those that loved her a painting remains, and some are sure in that painting she is a voice in heaven and some are sure she is no more.

After Ophelia's death she was put in a casket and laid out in an antique silvery dress with her arms strangely raised open and her face an upwards gaze , and as I looked at her white face in the casket i noticed someone had laid a prominent red poppy next to her right hand to signify death or sleep . And then as I again looked at her white face, I remembered her smile, her thoughts, and that I had once held her hand. I remembered the letters we exchanged and the future we once planned . I remembered those days were the happiest days of my life and I wondered why our love had only known spring , and why she had died in the dream Of my unborn butterfly.

After the funeral I returned to the riverbank where Ophelia had fallen and people believed drowned whilst picking flowers, and as I looked upon those flowers growing wild by the river, I cried knowing Ophelia had not accidentally fallen but purposefully let herself drown. Then I noticed the flowers that bloom at different times each year appeared next to each other , and then I looked at the dead and broken leaves. yet the flowers were in fall bloom.
...
Blue.:-
The leaves of a cherry tree bloom briefly, and so it was with Blue.

Blue died with only me at his death bed, I had witnessed his bodies slow physical deteriation over many years, but never once had Blue complained of his daily discomforts
My favourite times with Blue were the peaceful hours I pushed his wheel chair around the care home garden. Sometimes we would sit for hours in silence watching the fountain spout water in to the sky. And when it rained the raindrops seemed to mingle with the fountain water the way Blue and my soul mingled so well together.

"I love love" Blue said to me " I love the clear blue sky, and the sound of the flying butterflies:" and then Blue pointed and said " When there are no leaves on that cherry tree I shall be dead" and I knew the life's of cherry leaves are short.

And when Blue had passed his son came to the care home to settle finances, but he wasn't interested in talking to me about his father. In fact once the care home expenses had been settled and the funeral paid, the little that was left was loved more than Blue, so unlike me Blues son never got to hear from Blue, the answer to life's three most important questions.

1. The best time is now
2. The most important person is always the one you are with.
3. The most important thing is always what you are doing now.

And the best time for me is with nature looking at a butterfly flying free, for I know that within that butterfly am I. And now the summer of my life has ended and it's autumn began I am like a falling leaf surrendering to the journey of the wind . But not everything can live this way and I am reminded of the time I was strolling around the city and seeing the red neon light from a church building . The sign said, free bread and their was a long line of poor people such as single mothers with their children, or refugees of all ages, and each would wait their turn and take two loaves and a few cakes. But I also noticed a man with red hair get out of his car and take his place at the front of the cue where he took as many loafes and cakes his hands and pockets could hold.

But I have deserted the red neon lights of the city preferring to spend my time in the woods simply enjoying nature and often stopping to look at the place that can never be reached , where the sun merges with the horizon , and in doing so a feeling of contentment washes over my soul and I am at peace. Even when the winds rise and lonely clouds merge together to form storm clouds , nothing can take away my feeling of peace, not even the thunder , nor the heavy pouring rain and lightning bolts, for in fact I know these magical theatrical shows.are put on by afar for me, to understand Ophelia's troubles like stormy water's have passed.

And so it is with death, it came to Ophelia and said to me " Today you are to look upon her face for the last time, and you are never to touch her again " And that day her thoughts evaporated but thanks to Blue I am not dwelling on what is behind, anymore than I am interested in what lays ahead. I live in the now, happy my life is unimportant and made in of small comings and goings that mean absolutely nothing to anyone else but me.. And there is nothing wrong with that because most of my life I spent unhappily searching for something higher than myself, and thats why I never found peace ....( my word lim

The above is the first three paragraphs of a collection of short stories I have written. . I would value comments on my style of writing.

The first line should read soul not soil