Walk, just do not stop

I clearly felt as I am dying. I was to weak to fight. From the last pieces of the powers I tried. But suddenly after a wave of pain I was almost unconscious. I was tired, weak, I had nothing left. "Hope, that little thing, what is that?" I thought. All that time I was making myself little bit calm with the words "It will end soon". But the pain didn't let me to go. The pain didn't want to let me go. To let me go for a rest. For a rest of peace. After a period of the time, I finally understood that nothing will happen good. So I gave up. I gave up and waited for the worst. I do not know why it happened to me. I didn't ask for that. You are waiting for the answer... I can say just one: I do not know... I could felt clearly, that my blood in the veins isn't rushing anymore. It becomes slower. Slower... It almost stops. I had nothing to loose now. My heart beats were more silently than a rays of the sun. I couldn't breath. My arms started to freeze. My legs started to freeze. My nose was cold. And that last moment I understood, that I have to live, I have to take all my powers to survive. I breathed more deeply than I ever breathed. I stood up and started to walk: step-by-step. In my head were just one mind: "To survive". I have to take the last powers. This is not the end. No. My soul is still shouting: "Walk, just do not stop!" My soul is still shouting! I walked. I didn't stopped. I am alive. I am alive! Thank you God! You are wonderful! I love you!

I am wondering... Do the butterflies go to sleep sometimes? Do they dream often? If yes, what they dream about? Do they sometimes dream that they are falling? If yes, from how much metres from the ground? I am wondering do the butterflies sometimes wonder about the future? When I was little my parents didn't let me to touch the butterflie's back. They were saying that if I will touch the butterfly's back, it will die. The butterfly will die. So I didn't touch it. I just loved to look how they spread those colourful wings, and how they fly so easily and with a lot of elegancy. The friend of my family all her life, was making a postcards with dead butterflies. She catched the butterfly, put it in the jar and somehow it died. Later the same butterfly somehow appeared in the postcard which was sent to us. I couldn't believe my eyes. That wings, full elegancy were like made from the stone. And I start to wonder, that the life of the butterflies is so unfair! Someone, somehow puts you into the jar and you can't breath. You die- just for one reason: because you are original. Just for one purpose, because someone wants to make the other person "happy" with a postcard. Now you are on the postcard and you are sent to somewhere. You fly to somewhere, but now, not with your own wings. Now your wings are like stone. And I am still wondering, do the butterflies feel pain? Do they have another life? Or if the butterfly was good all its life, does after the death it goes to the heaven? Does the butterfy has got a choice to go to heaven or to hell? I am wondering. For just one reason poor butterfly dies. It's eyes closed up until forever. What is it feeling when catches last gramme of the oxygen? What it feels? It's lungs can't catch any air. It's brains can't get enough of oxygen. It's hearts stops. I am wondering, if the butterfly is crying then. Or if it just close it's eyes until forever? With no hope to wake up... With no little, shinny hope to wake up. With nothing. . .