|
Butterflies on the wheel |
|
of a world that turns unyieldingly... |
|
every fragile beating wing |
|
moves the motor of the thing, |
|
oh, Gaia! |
|
Butterflies stir a breeze |
|
and the ripples flow unceasingly: |
|
far away the cyclones swirl. |
|
It's a whole, connected world. |
|
Oh, Gaia! |
|
Wipe those tears from your tired eyes: |
|
every breath you take a sacred sigh. |
|
Butterflies on the wheel |
|
making order out of chaos |
|
and each ripple in the air |
|
turns the motor everywhere. |
|
Cry those tears, then dry those tired eyes: |
|
every breath you take keeps you alive. |
|
Butterflies as we are |
|
freeze in flight beneath the starry sky |
|
but the ghosts fly on and on... |
|
in this sense we all belong, |
|
oh, Gaia! |
|
And the sum of all the parts |
|
is the all-forgiving heart |
|
of Gaia. |
|
Oh, Gaia! |
