Birth of a Butterfly

I saw, indeed, aside a Sisyphus – stone A lonely old little daisy standing alone Fading and dying and nearly decaying Closer to the brink of its grave bending In her heart seemed a caterpillar, hanging Suffering its final stage of pupating Chrysalis cocooning grasping rasping Jumping, humping and its fluid-pumping Fast, haste, rapid, relentless, impatient Fluent, steady, stringent, persistent The start of its life, it appeared Could, rather, be its utter end It really did not want to die Rather, it yearned to survive This was the great reason why Its undergoing tensions high All these difficulties struggles and strives Pains and agonies and agitations Struggling, striving, senile suffering Death, resurrection and life-giving It emerged into a beautiful butterfly And flew away above in the colorful sky What a meticulous metamorphosis! Birth-death-resurrection life-synthesis!