The dance of glass winged butterflies in the hall of a thousand flickering candles

Little glass butterflies with their fickle glass wings.
Glinting of colors of memories that bloom and blossom and die and wither anew
Blinding little flashes of brilliant color with every tiny flutter
Memory butterflies, so enchanting with their endless dance and silent songs
Little tiny butterflies that catch and turn the light of thousands of tiny candles
Orange glows of a million moments caught forever in wicks made of thought and dream dust
Little flames that burn with every thought past and forgot
Facettes of light and soft glow made brilliant by fickle glass wings
Wings of pretty little butterflies
Wings of glass and memory and other such fragile things
And as Lord Time breathes a breeze of merciless forgot and rot and cold icy wind
Butterfly wings break in the relentless wind like a child's peircing cry
Little shattered wings litter dark marble floors of memories left for no one
Like glittering stars on a blanket of cold sorrow
With no one left to remember to sweep up the precious broken memory wings
No one left to remember how to dream of little fluttering wings
That catch and glint in the glow of a thousand candle lights