Lyssa's unfinished poem

I was beautiful once, a butterfly;
even my toes were pretty.
Loving to live and living to love,
I watched the sands of time scatter down on me.
I took a chance, a leap of faith, innocent of life's fated plans for me.
Once path selected, a rut ensued, a life of lost identity.
On an on, on and on, like flotsam on a stream; pouring, pouring, shifting
storming, onwards but never to the sea.
Slowly dying, shifting, sighing a pale ghost emerged from me.
Until one day . . .