The Dance Of Butterflies   
(alice martins)
  
The dance of the butterflies follows of flower in flower. Colorful,   them disclose  gracifulness and the slightness. some have small   balls in each angle of the wings.  Others are yellow, blue, red   with black person, whites, a true one  festival of colors. All   pretty ones! As its spectacle is beautiful! Taste of  seguiz them   with the look and to be imagining when we will be so light which    motley butterflies?    Debtors who we are, to live   almost dragging penosamente for the ground,  had to our specific   weight, we still do not cogitate to brighten up  pack that we   load.    Already they had thought why monges Buddhist   and other people who exercise  meditation can to levit? What it   happens to its weighed substance, why  its bodies if unfasten of   the ground or a plain furniture and in airs?  Why Jesus Christ   slid for on the sea? Why however he appeared,  however he   disappeared amongst the people? And as saw where nobody more made   it  or it makes?    It has very what to unmask and   to learn in the proper Land, in the proper one  universe of the   human body. E the mind, what already we know on it?      Philosophical, scientific, moral questions that we will go discovering   with  time. This if to interest to study and to observe everything   what in the fence.  In the life nothing one becomes by chance,   everything has its reason to also exist and  nothing if conquest   without proper effort.    The said butterflies and the   too much beings inferior, taking care of to one  biological   determinism, knows very well what to make and they make it with   perfection. And we, human beings, already possessing of free will, will   be that already we discover what we must make in this so pretty Planet?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     The dance of the butterflies, the flight of the birds, the calm source;   they bring me  a candy enchantment! One ecstasy of garden. A   indefinable will of  to fly, to cry out to all the winds that the   life is tame, is beautiful! That  it depends on each one, to   become it thus.    alice martins  
 
  
 
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