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Poem


Like chrysalises or cocoons,
Each day we grow plumper,
not as insects feeding on leaves,
but as humans 
consuming the totality
of lessons learned from our life experiences,
for life is our chrysalises stage
in which we glean interests -
those things which feed
our soul.
From both the good and the bad,
we learn and we then choose
what our attitude will be
regarding all that we have absorbed.

Death is not an ending,
and though it may seem outwardly
that we wither away like wilted roses,
our souls are preparing
for an emergence!
We grow sick from aging
and feel sometimes like we
 are hanging upside down.
Then comes that magical moment
of metamorphosis.
Our souls break free
from the flesh to which they've been tethered.
Our loved ones cannot see it happening,
but we begin to turn into beings
of light.
Butterflies, brightly illuminated,
we will fly to the home
which for a brief time on this earth
had been concealed from us.
At last the veil will fall
from our eyes.

Oh, open your spiritual eyes,
sweet butterfly,
and know with all your senses
(even those senses you’d forgotten
that you had previously possessed)
you are home,
and home is a glowing place of
all-encompassing
love.

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