Upon a bobbing rose a butterfly
Alights. Is she in search of respite from
A raging wind that we esteem a breeze,
Soft airs of summer in a gentle dance?
Or is instead her sole imperative
To launch herself aloft upon the wind
And profit from the widening of her range?
So does the butterfly promote her kind,
Responsive to the vagaries of chance,
And for all other life it is just so -
The cosmic scales condition what may live,
The sizes that will fit the habitat.
Transgressions of established paradigms
Will bring condign perdition in their wake -
But should the habitat become outgrown,
From want of substance or longevity,
The scale must be upgraded to the need,
And life transferred entire to prospects new
Which may entail our most momentous find:
Are we the sole examples of our kind
Or are our equals somewhere to be found,
Elsewhere, elsewhen, extinct or still extant?
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