Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

7:21am. I have been up for more than two hours now. Looking through my window, it feels like a normal day is ahead of me. The sky is cloudless, light blue. Palm trees stand uniformly. A calm wind blows. A butterfly flies in the distance, heading to the west and out of view. It is too far away for me to discern the color of its wings, and I am left to contemplate the limitless possibilities. I can see red buds on a few bushes nearby, enveloped in the comforting embrace of multicolored leaves. The sun sweeps onto a couple of nearby homes, illuminating their white walls. A bird can be heard singing. Perhaps it is a song of victory, of love, of hope, of courage. For the first time since I was seven years old, I've started my day knowing that I live in a world where one man holds the greatest prize in all of sports. For the first time this century, we have an undisputed heavyweight boxing champion. It took 25 years for the championship to be fully reunified; in "Arthur" terms, it was so long ago that the show had only aired four complete seasons out of an eventual twenty-five, and "Arthur's Perfect Christmas," the first proper special, was still a full calendar year away. Oleksandr Usyk, a remarkably skillful Ukrainian fighter who won an Olympic gold medal back in 2012 and six years later became Ukraine's first undisputed champion (and the first undisputed cruiserweight champion since the start of the four-belt era in 2007), had been given surprisingly little chance to defeat Tyson Fury, the "Gypsy King" who had held the lineal title since 2015 (when he upset Wladimir Klitschko to claim his portion of the heavyweight championship) and outweighed the Ukrainian by nearly 40 pounds. Quite a few observers believed Usyk, who turned 37 back in January, was getting old. Granted, 37 is nowhere near old for a 'normal' man, but is considered an advanced age for an athlete, particularly one of a world championship caliber. His age, combined with his size (he is a natural cruiserweight who in the amateurs had fought as low as middleweight), combined with what he gave away in both height and reach to the Englishman, seemed to spell disaster. Initially, it looked like things were going to go Fury's way. After a couple of good early rounds for Usyk, Fury dug into his bag of tricks and started taking control of the fight. By the end of the eighth round, there was now a serious possibility that Usyk would leave Saudi Arabia a defeated man. In the ninth, everything changed. He managed to stagger the big man severely with a stunning combination of punches. Though Usyk came very close to putting him on the canvas, Fury remained upright, but the referee correctly ruled a knockdown as only the ropes had kept him from going down. Fighting with renewed vigor, Usyk would make it to the final bell, but not before weathering a last-ditch resistance from Fury, who tried with all he had to finish off his smaller opponent. Though judge Craig Metcalfe gave Fury the nod by a 114-113 score, he was overruled by judges Manuel Oliver Palermo and Mike Fitzgerald, who scored it 115-112 and 114-113 respectively. Usyk joined Terence Crawford and Naoya Inoue as one of only three men since the start of the four-belt era to have won the undisputed championship in two different weight classes, and became only the second man in boxing history to win both the undisputed cruiserweight and heavyweight championships, a feat only before realized by Evander Holyfield (who is now forever enshrined in Canastota, in the International Boxing Hall of Fame). Though Usyk may end up being stripped of one of those belts due to an unfair IBF mandate that he face their #1 contender Filip Hrgovic, which they are apparently unwilling to grant an exception for despite a contractual rematch clause having been activated, I don't buy into the politics. I don't care about the politics. However the powers conspire to rob Usyk of the glory of his greatest moment as a professional, no one will ever be able to say he couldn't do it. Part of me hopes Usyk will call it a career should he defeat Fury again, hopefully later this year. He's all but guaranteed to join Holyfield in Canastota, as long as he stays out of trouble. For now, it feels like the championship is in the hands of someone who actually gives it the respect that it deserves, someone who is willing to test himself against the best and never strays outside the top ten to pick 'gimme' fights with unworthy competition, someone who doesn't rely on antics and games to keep himself in the spotlight. Usyk has represented himself, and the sport of boxing, with dignity from the moment he turned professional. He is among the last of a dying breed, a tradition of old-school fighters who made it to the top with hard work, refusing to take the 'easy' path to get there. We ought to give him his flowers, while he still has time to smell them. I glance out my window again and see a noble black bird flying westward in the distance. Altering his direction he navigates to the north, soaring out of my visible line of sight. I am left again to contemplate the possibilities. Vehicles accelerate east and west, observable through that same tiny hole in that same big, beautiful bush. Another butterfly flies westward, stopping to rest on a smaller bush. This time, I can see its wings; they are a pastel yellow. Perhaps it was the same butterfly I had seen a couple hours ago. The butterflies seem to have their own way of coming back. Reflecting on my relationship with nature, I realize that my love for each butterfly grants me the ability to be understanding when they fly away. They were not meant to be here forever. Just as with all living creatures, they'll eventually return to their original essence. The butterfly flaps its wings, rising from the bush, traveling to and fro. The butterfly has its freedom. The fates aligned such that it was led to spend some time outside my window. Soon, it will continue its journey, exploring a world that can seem infinite when you are so small and fragile. As a big man, I am deeply moved by the beauty and vulnerability of our smallest creatures. I will never live long enough, or travel far enough, to see every single one. Not even in one thousand lifetimes would I be able to see even one percent of all that remains to be explored in the limitless majesty of our universe, a tapestry brought to life through the limitless imagination of a divine Creator. But while I am here, I can still do my best to love the ones which I do get to see. More butterflies come to join the lone dancer. They spontaneously unite for a gentle dance of peace. Eventually, they too fly away. The blue of the sky has become lighter, more pastel. There are clouds that could not be seen before. Thus far, there is only a 10% chance of precipitation, which increases to 60% starting at 1:00pm and will peak at 90% two hours later. The sun will be replaced by a pouring rain in several hours, a blessing for the local farmers to ensure that their crops grow successfully. Another bird's song is heard outside, a solo effort which soon becomes a captivating duet. I mute the Rick Steves rerun currently being shown on WLRN-TV and can discern it more clearly. Following the end of the "KidVision" block, I switch to WPBT-TV and hear an announcer going through the list of funders for "Nature", an episode about saving the animals of Ukraine. Again, I am reminded of how lucky I am.