Covid
COVID
A cocoon starts. Thick membranes of tissue encompass yourself. Gathering and condensing molecules and listening to life.
This skin, its filled with strains of a virus and craves the crevice of familial caves. A barrier. The host of your new pupae calling itself quarantine. Quarantine. This thick mucous seeps and creeps around the home and tries! It tries to wound all life into one. It fails. A pupae is one. You are. You are the life form that contracts a shell of collective consciousness. This shell that reaches for more, it is yours! You cant breathe. You want to share this cacoon with everyone, ANYONE. Then! Feelers. You have sprouted not only antennae, but music! The melody of change gathers atoms and sings the song of wings! You! The cacoon was meant for you. You hear yourself for the first time and when you emerge they see your beauty but cannot hear your song. Suddenly! The membranes close in on them. And through your newfound body and song, you console them through their own metamorphosis and together you sing the song of the butterfly.
Copyright © Angel Copenhaver | Year Posted 2021
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