It's so plain and clear

It's so plain and clear.

How she sits there, not wanting anyone to see.

How lonely, isolated.

How she protects herself with glass.

It is a glass door which she hides behind.

It's so plain and clear, it pains me.

Pains me how naive she is.

Pains me how brave she is.

It lights a fire in me, not so plain and clear.

Makes my face turn to fire, and my heart, to ice.

Suddenly I'm in a forest, the light green, robust flora illuminates my way. There are dew drops on the petals of the eucalyptus. They are sweet. As I tread over the lively vines on the forest floor, my feet become moist. Then I see a dear, astute and majestic. 

It bolts in the opposite direction, capering and bounding. 

My ear twitches and I hear a giggle of laughter, sweet and feminine.

The dear pivots on its hind leg to face me, its eyes squinted in a smile; its mouth, contorted in pain. 

I walk up to it.

I stand at that door loathing her.

Her innocence, passion, compassion escape me time and time again.

The dear starts to edge backward, away.

Good. Go.

But it stays, apprehensive.

A gleaming stone of agate catches my pupil

I pick it up and some of the red powder falls against my hand.

I chuck it at the dear.

The door shatters into pieces

Just as she was about to turn the handle.

She stares at me for a second, her mouth open in disbelief.

Nonetheless, she turns the handle and a butterfly with broad wings painted every divine color.

The red dust from the agate is still on my hands.