taylor@sdccsu3.UUCP (03/09/84)
Looking Into My Mind Looking into my mind, I see turmoil. The raging fires of Hell, burning the last vestiges of what we sneeringly call the veneer of civilization. And yet, behind it all, in a glade by a brook, the sun filters through the trees and spots the ground, homing in on the recently extinguished body of the butterfly. But, in a last effort, warmed by the sun, the wings quiver, and the butterfly lifts its head off of the earth and looks piercingly at me. "The trouble with dying" appears in flames on the trees in front of me, "is that at the last second you always remember what you never got around to doing." Its head sank to the ground, and the light went away. -- 3/8/84