A Butterfly

[asthaoo]

If there is just one moment where my mind is not blank as a sheet of paper,
rather stained with ink or coffee,
then I grasp at it!
No matter how much the thought may wriggle
and try to dive back into the damned river of my subconscious,
I grasp.
It may be elusive like a butterfly --
wonderful and glorious,
but momentary.
Catch her, quick!
For after she blossoms and slips out of her cocoon,
she may fade in a day or two,
or fly away.
If she is not in between my warm, sweaty palms,
what will become of her?
Therefore: pin her down and preserve her inside a book,
let her dry with age.
And several years later,
you will find her alive again, in all her aged beauty,
she is still glorious;
still quite the same butterfly.
Still kindred to my fleeting thoughts on an ink-stained sheet of paper

[PrinceMyshkin]

I love the way you return at the end to the image of the ink-stained sheet of paper, and I love too the freedom of this. My one quibble would be that


If there is just one moment where

should be "one moment when".