A butterfly rests,  
On the giraffe's gentle hue,  
Grace in stillness found.

butterfly mind swarm
dropping gentle wisdom thoughts
creates tornados

.                                                  Inch by inch,
                                            cruel word,
                                      indecision,
         ­                       pressure,
                        spin an avalanche
                    around my grubby life,
              cocooned, cold
          my sight
        goes
      black.
A crack, amber light bleeds
into my shrouding chrysalis.
      I struggle,
        tearing silk,
            escaping
                to smell the sun
                      taste its nectar
                            and
                          ­        see
                                        I am
                                              a
              ­                                      butterfly.

A lowly caterpillar
Inching her way to a leaf
She spins her chrysalis
The sun rises and sets many times
But she does not see it
Because she has hidden herself away
In her cocoon
But finally
She begins to emerge
And she is no longer a lowly caterpillar
She has grown wings and can fly away
To a better reality

Time bequeaths a tune
Folding like fading petals
Butterfly breezed by