Crulean

each tiny plump egg grows until it splits from the seams spring forth go on, and live you are your own. and so each tiny worm has a leaf it's own it begins its journey not even two inches from it's only home. and lowly creatues that we be we eat our way to destiny. summer monthes spent in sun rainy days and windy ones. fat and fatter still the goal is eat beyond your fill. no control no idea eat, eat my friends the foliage never ends one day in late light sun we begin to realize the horrendous damage we have done. the rose bushed we have chomped and nothing left but bare stalks of flowers so thin so worn so tired... suddenly so admired. we are like a virus in our path, all we devour. realization strikes us swift and we begin to undo the pain the misery and bloatedness the days spend sheltered from our own rain. in a cacoon wrapped so tight plan to sleep for a fortnight forever, even more the pain... it's too much for one worm. the cacoon, tight and tighter still will enstil the ulitmate goal. and yet with time spent away from food, one grows glorious wings and a small slender stick body with perfect tiny legs. it's like a miracle intended to right the wrongs. so it wasn't death it was what was coveted all along. perfection. mirrored in our own and each reflection a butterfly sweetly replenishes the stolen fruits, brings beauty to the world.. colours vibrant such a delight... if i too let time pass by will i become a butterfly? xxoxo Ellie J