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!
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