Imperfect Wisdom

A perfect messDuring my early-morning walk, I noticed an unusual insect perched on the branch of a peach tree. When I stopped to examine it, it spread its wings in a startling display of impossibly complex patterns, and iridescent hues that seemed to illuminate my surroundings. As I stood, wide-eyed, attempting to make sense of the apparition, it began to speak.

The beautiful insect imparted ancient mysteries; it told me the secrets of the universe. Every revelation shook the core of my being, and brought a new flood of tears. It was as if I were being torn to pieces, then rebuilt according to divine specifications. Time lost all meaning.

I don't know how long I sat in the orchard; it might have been hours, or days. The insect cocked its head, regarding me with an eye that seemed to hold eternities. I shivered, and rose to my feet.

As my mind began to clear, I noticed an imperfection in the beautiful insect's wings: one was slightly shorter than the other, and less colorful.

I squashed the insect with my thumb.

 

4 comments:

  1. Thank you. Thank you very much.

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  2. Suddenly I'm seeing Vladimir Nabokov's butterfly collection in a whole new light.

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  3. If only he had followed your lead, his eyesight might have outlived his reputation. A dark microscope is no way to stare at insects.

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