Trapped by a honeycomb cylinder
I cannot move, crawl or stalk.
At times the light is bright,
Other times, dark.
A thousand years flit by;
I feel the force.
The fibers bound round me, appear as a thousand strings
Playing the melody of transformation while the wind in harmony sings.
My head spins as fast as a galloping horse
Up, down, left, right, every way between.
Like a mummy bound for eternity, my fate is seen.
My shell soon softens, however, like the sands along a coast
My sad existence realizes what it wants the most.
An earthquake sets me free from the organic tomb
I thank my shell and bade a lofty goodbye,
Whispering : “From the butterfly.”