Above me a white butterfly is fluttering through the air
on wings that are its alone,
and a shadow skims through my hands
that is none other than itself, no one else's but its own.
When I see such things, I'm no longer sure
that what's important
is more important than what's not.
Wislawa Szymborska, 'No Title Required' in View with a Grain of Sand (faber & faber, 1995) pp. 176-177
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