we were all caterpillars once. awkward, squirming through our days. devouring everything in site, selfish, consumptive. without friend, with plentiful foe. mindlessly pursuing our own personal nourishment. destructive, slow. with time, and less birds, we may make it through to sleep. sleeping away the sloth and gluttony of the days. consuming oneself in cannibalistic self improvement.
and then, with digestion of all that we were, through reemergence, we are beautiful. light of heart, cognizant, graceful. we, in flight, wandering to wonder, winged whispering dreams of caterpillars. winged whispers on the wind. days from then and far from ever. winged whispers of our present bliss.
