The Butterfly surfing the Maverick (poem)

Theirs was a love story about a butterfly and a maverick wave.

The fragility of something so soft and seemingly diminishable, paired with a ruptured and chaotic display of water constantly in motion.

The veins in her wings as intricate as the art she created with pencil and paper.

Then her Creator filled in the gaps with an intense array of colour.

And he coloured a little outside the lines on purpose.

Colour so distinguished and noticeable,

Even to the tallest Maverick in the pacific.

But the butterfly doesn’t have time to fall in love.

Her frequency illuminates love, but she has yet to learn how to receive it.

She is a giver to the generations of chaotic transmission running down her blood line.

All the things she faced, she wasn’t afraid to question.

For one isn’t defined by the patterns they are born with,

And she would be..yes she would be, the one to save herself and the people around her.

So the Maverick noticed her immediately.

She was in-experienced and sheltered, yet sure of herself.

She had flown west for the winter, almost as if by appearance she didn’t belong where he was,

Which only made him want her more.

And damn was she beautiful.

And he instantly built her mind.

The Maverick.

Classified as larger than life and unquantifiable.

Only the bravest of surfers may venture into these waters.

And conquer this wave.

So naturally he came with an ego. False pride and an assured sense of who he was in the world,

With an even bigger consolidation in his Creator.

But the heavier the circumstance, the more detrimental the wave.

And the butterfly had a way of stilling his waters.

A butterfly surfing the maverick,

Imagine that.

But what happens when the butterfly effect plays into motion,

And the single flap of her wing causes tornados that create destructive waves, disrupting his balance.

That is what it is, to fall in love right?

What happens when those waves have a ripple effect and damage the veins in her wings?

What happens when the surface of the water touches wings that aren’t meant to be touched?

Because as the world knows, a butterfly’s wings are fragile.

And suddenly the butterfly remembers that she’s a butterfly and the maverick remembers that he’s a wave.

They can no longer dance under stars of indifference, to all the barriers that make them different.

And they just couldn’t speak the same language anymore.

What are the remnants left behind of such chaotic effects?

Butterfly and ripple effects merged into remnants forming a young wanderer,

And the veins in her butterfly wings have salt water coursing through them.

Bearing both their gifts and both their flaws.

An Unforced rhythmic, gracefully coated chaos.

A product of her mother and father.

A product of mythic effects in play.

Though the butterfly is gone now.

Because that’s the thing about butterflies,

They can never stay too long, though their effects render onwards.

But she conquered what her mother couldn’t.

Because Only the bravest of surfers venture into the waters of the maverick,

But she could surf him with such ease.

Surfing him was as easy as changing a car tire in the middle of a rainstorm.

So unafraid of his intensity,

Even more untamable than he.

His love for her was more unquantifiable than the lengths of his tide.

A love so deep, that it was he who couldn’t conquer her.

Though she was a product of him,

She also had the wings to wander away.

The hybrid of an unlikely love story.

“The maverick butterfly…”