Within distorted walls where Order dies
amongst the fairways where the Chaotics ply-
their trades

Therein lies
a celestially-silver sheen on its midnight coat-
a moonlit butterfly

As I stand on streets with animals wry
where many-eyed crows and tentacled mice-
shuffle

A flutter belies
the arrival of it upon a shoulder-
a cohort butterfly

With its antennae and rosy, ever-sly
lips curved in a grin. Its words indemnify-
me

Its presence decries
proliferation of my inhibitions-
the Consort butterfly

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Ero, in the year 832 AF.