The Song of the Butterfly of the Mists
Legend
Long ago, before roads crisscrossed the land, there lived a young girl named Ashke , in the heart of a valley bordered by mountains and traversed by a crystal-clear river. Every morning, the valley awoke under a veil of mist, and the vapor danced among the trees like moving hands.
It was said that deep within the mist lived a rare spirit, the Mist Butterfly —an ethereal creature with iridescent, translucent wings, whose enchanting song soothed the silence of dawn. The Butterfly only revealed itself to the pure soul, to those who knew how to listen to the breath of the world.
Ashke was gentle and attentive. Every morning, she sat by the river with her eyes closed and listened to the murmur of the water, the rustling of the leaves, the song of the birds—but the song of the Butterfly never reached her. She longed to hear it, to pierce the veil of mystery.
One morning, as the mist thickened more than ever, Ashke ventured into the valley beneath a gray sky. She walked slowly, her heart open, her steps light, listening to every whisper of the wind. Suddenly, she glimpsed silvery reflections courting the mist—the delicate silhouette of a fragile insect, larger than life, its wings tracing luminous arabesques.
He was the Mist Butterfly. He fluttered around her, emitting a soft moan, almost a melodious sigh. Ashke felt a vibration throughout her, as if the entire universe were whispering in her ear. Then the song was born, a voice clear as water, full of promises and memories.
The Butterfly spoke to her without words—a sound, an image, a resonance. He showed her the invisible roots of the valley, how every drop of dew, every wisp of mist, every breath of wind is connected to all living things. He offered her a gift: to hear the deep song of the world—the words of the stones, the sigh of the trees, the breath of the rivers.
But there was one condition: Ashke had to keep the secret of this invisible music. If she spoke of it to boast of her power, if she abused this gift to impress humans, she would lose the ear of the landscape, and the Butterfly would vanish forever.
Ashke agreed. Back home, she lived quietly, but her eyes shone with a new light. She healed injured animals, calmed storms of the heart, and inspired dreams in minds. But she never revealed how she heard the whisper of the stones.
Every full moon night, when the mist spreads beyond the mountains, some say that in the distance one can hear a faint song, a musical breath of wind — the dancing Mist Butterfly, silent guardian of waking beings.
Morality / teaching
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There are gifts that one does not show off, but cultivates with humility.
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The world has its invisible music: learning to listen, to respect silence, is to connect with the deep forces of nature.
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True power is often silent, discreet, and evaporates as soon as one seeks recognition.
Creations inspired by the spirit of legends
Each piece is handcrafted on Nitassinan by Ilnu artisan Dave Verreault-Thisselmagan, carrying the energy of tradition and nature.
