The "Goo" inside the cocoon, or egg~
THAT is the stuff of life.
Complex molecules and proteins,
Building an unseen structure...
Which will crawl, or walk, or fly- some day.
The goo is actually sacred.
Perhaps not holy, but sinless thus far.
A sticky, salty, slush which perpetuates life.
Including the eggs which the fox consumed~
Wriggling in my own cocoon-
THAT is the stuff of life.
Complex molecules and proteins,
Building an unseen structure...
Which will crawl, or walk, or fly- some day.
The goo is actually sacred.
Perhaps not holy, but sinless thus far.
A sticky, salty, slush which perpetuates life.
Including the eggs which the fox consumed~
Wriggling in my own cocoon-
Wet, slimy, and waiting. I wonder,
Will I have wings, or will I remain a worm?
Will I drink nectar, or will I digest the rot of the forest?
Both jobs are important and necessary.
Splendor is in the eye of the Beholder~
A Butterfly becomes such at the mid point of it's life...
Lovely to think of, isn't it?
Our years of marching on the ground, eating leaves, and gobbling up milkweed,
Next a time of retreat into a shell and then waiting.
We dissolve into the goo from which we came,
And emerge as a creature who gives life.
-
Only in it's winged form can a butterfly reproduce.
And the "Goo" is in her eggs :)
Becoming a butterfly is fine enough,
But I'd rather be a bird of prey-
(I was not holding the bird in this photo, but I did take the shot :)
A hawk, an Eagle, an owl...Terror of the sky, AND the maker of a warm feathered nest.
My outer shell is hardening.
The goo dissipates as the structure inside is almost completed.
Breaking out is a struggle.
The "stuff of life" has made me who I am~
And staying put is not an option. Not if I intend to soar~
And I do.