How many times have you changed
your perspective on the past?
History shifts—
the events recast,
like tides that turn, like shadows that sway,
like the whispers of dreams
that daylight betrays.
The future flutters,
a butterfly’s flight—
each wing a cause, each beat, a rewrite.
For a butterfly knows—
both sides must paddle,
each feather, a balance,
each gust, a battle.
And this—this is history’s secret lore:
the fourth dimension, the evermore.
Now is the stalk, the slender spine,
where the wings of time
in their dance align.
