Off the Cuff 7: White butterflies & Until When?

First, NaPoWriMo poem:


White butterflies flit
with pollen-printed feet
around rosemary's tangled purple
calendula's upright ripe gold
the white fluff on stringy wild rocket.
Fences, house lots, so many acres or hectares
mean nothing to them. We are nothing.
Our gardens are simply the world
to see the world in, to dance
among the noted denizens
& alight briefly upon.



Until when?

The sands hide facts.
You can build a cathedral
from theories.
He lays down sticks just so
no-one will see sacred remnants.
The wind co-operates.
You can build a past
from tiny fragments.
There is only now
with the sand, the sticks
the bones, his hands.
There is only now
and the truth shifting, shaping
centuries of concealment
and discovery ...

APAD 7    prompt: Begin with "Until ___________" and fill in the blank.