Butterflies

—Caterpillars emerge from
Tiny eggs
Into leafy worlds—

The more I learn
The less I know.
The world was such
A stationary place
Not long ago.
Concrete sidewalks
Lined the grassy world
Beckoning
Hither
And wither,
My eager footsteps
Still young
In brand new shoes,
Galloping away to
Meet the sunrise.

Now,
My feet,
Calloused and weary,
Tread lightly
On glass and
Porcelain bridges
over
Starry-night abysses
Darkly and nightly cold,
Burning in their dreamlike fashion.

—Caterpillars
Create their
“changing chambers”
To collapse themselves—

I feel that I can make
The once seemingly
Indestructible
And never-ending
Self of mine
Fall to dust-clouds
With the smallest of tiny whispers:
“Change”


—tiny tremors
Shake the cocoons,
Magical meltings
Spellbinding solidifications—

So that is why
I embrace
The Now
With such
Energetic vigor
and solemn solemnity
For we are never promised our tomorrows.

Our ever-waking and dreamful moments
we must treasure
Lest they, like butterflies,
Fly away.