If butterflies are hopes that
we constantly pin on things
and men and dreams...
Who is their keeper?
They would be free...to fly...through the sky...
beyond my wildest dreams!
Yet I would pin them back,
tying them down to the things of this earth,
forgetting that I am not my butterflies' keeper.
There is only One who holds them in His hand,
and He is faithful.
There is no darkness nor shadow of turning in Him.
And yet, like a child, I want to hold them
and catch them
and touch them and sometimes
I crush them, forgetting that their Keeper cares for them.
For me.
He will not long defer my hopes...
And even if all my butterflies fly far, far away,
perhaps they are only flying into the depths of His heart.
