"Ankle deep, he waded through the bluebells. His spirit rose and exalted... as he breathed in the sun-drenched air. The glorious day was in its last decline. Long shadows lay on the sward... and from above the leaves dripped their shimmering drops of gold-green light.
Moths and butterflies swarmed in merry hosts... flittering here, glimmering there.
But, hush. Could that be a deer?"
She's on a quest. But aren't we all? Traveling as far away from her heart as possible. Seeing it or hearing its soft murmur of desperate longing only hurts more. Avoidance of dwelling taken literally. There is no room to dwell. There is no dwelling. There is no home or a permanent residence for those torn between love and forgetfulness. Far away as metal wings could take her, she will continue to walk through the less traveled paths. Only occasional butterflly will stir the air she breathes in the cold peaks of lonely serenity.
Only wandering, moving on can soothe this blue heart of a butterfly.