Names hesitate on lips.
Hang there, from the roof of your mouth
Like peanut butter, sticky and gooey and flavorful,
Connecting a delicate balance of understanding and knowledge.
Butterflies unfurl their wings in the stomach, slowly rising to the throat, pushing through.
And the moment it drifts off your lips, the sacred spoken word floats in the air, coloring the sky.
Vulnerability expands, but disappears as the butterfly gently taps the ear of the named creature, acknowledging the presence of the one whose lips spoke the sacred word.
For a moment, a connection was made, a simple strand from one person to another through a word so simple as a name.
