Butterfly

Are you torn, little friend?
Torn between two realities.
Torn between who you were and who you've been declared. One clutching at you from the drudgery you called life, and one beckoning you from ahead.
How do you make it?
How do you stick it out?
How do you handle the transformation process?
Are there days when the end result seems so near you can almost taste it, then days when you're not sure if you have the courage to wait out the pain?

Was before so bad?
Open fields and springtime skies. Colorful blossoms and companions to share it with. Sure, there were hard times...you were fair game for the bigger and stronger. Sure you were worms, eking out a living on the ground. Sure you knew you were made to become something better.

Do you know what's coming?
Did you know the promise? The promise for all your ugliness to be turned to beauty. Do you remember trying to find fulfillment and satisfaction, to be full, only to find that everything was tough and tasteless just like always? Did you ever look longingly at one who had been transformed and realizing that they could soar, while...you only crawled.  They were able to draw the sweetness from life and soak in every beautiful moment. Is that hope what gives you patience now?

And now this.
This dark, cramped prison. No sunlight, no hope except the promise. No companions. No freedom to do what you want when you want. This pain, this  longing, this impatience, this struggle with your own self to just  stay put until the right time.

This prison is a chrysalis.

This prisoner: a caterpillar.

This impatient one: destined to be a butterfly.

This example: set here for me to learn from.

So I can learn that my waiting is not useless.

I, too, am in a cocoon of becoming. My present is not my future any more than a chrysalis is a butterfly. But the chrysalis is vital in the making of a butterfly. Like the little caterpillar, if I break out of my confinement too soon, all will be lost.  Like the caterpillar I will, in the end, realize just how worth it the waiting is.

In light of all this, there is courage to wait it out a little longer. There is the realization that this chrysalis time is not my prison, it is my launching pad. And this pain that transforms me is my best friend.

Soon everything will be different. I will be who I was proclaimed to be from the beginning of time.

Soon, like my friend the caterpillar, I will be able to soar