The stuff of life

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-

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.