Metamorphosis

And as its dramatic green wings; in stark contrast with its body as black as my darkest night; fluttered to an unhurried stop; its long, delicate legs stretched out purposefully and perched themselves precariously on the very edge of the railing of my balcony. I walked towards the green butterfly in a trance, and each step made my vision more focused. I could see the intricate, webbed motifs imprinted on the wings. But I could also see the tear in its wings, the unnoticeable, subtle tear. The green butterfly was struggling to hold on.

I watched, unmoving and in sheer intrigue; as a cloud passed and the sunlight that had once blinded my eyes poured from the clouds like Holy Light bathing the butterfly in an angelic, divine light; making its emerald wings scintillate blindingly like diamonds. This light seemed to instill in the butterfly something beyond my comprehension, and it slowly, but perseveringly climbed over, spread its wings; although slightly feebly; and flew. 

The butterfly stumbled through the air, and eventually gained control over itself. It glided towards me, and perched itself on my arm, brushing gently against my bruises.

And as the light reflected of my skin where the butterfly had perched, I saw the bruises vanish.