The butterfly was buffeted and jostled by the wind.

“If I don't touch down soon”, he thought, “this breeze will be my end!

 

How foolish all this gossamer! This high-falootin’ floss!

I seldom go from A to B without being blown off course.

 

In fact, my life seems fruitless - just a flash in some small pan.

What difference do I make - a flitting, floating, fleeting fan? 

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