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shamamama Apr 28
One drop of Dragon's breath
Stirs sleeper from dreamtime,

She wakes from the **** of creation
Where shadows dance into form
And reflections live in the past

Bound from silken fibers,
This ancient changeling,
Slowly creeps from cocoon.

Perching on branch
Impulses of flight and
A longing for air and nector
Breathe life into capillaries
And Rivulets newly knit.

Unfurling shape in patient sunlight,
Wings born of a great sleep
Reach into the light,
Waiting for droplets of life
To pulse in her being
Unveiling an opportunity
To fledge.

Where does her life begin and end?
She lives like a drop of water in a cloud.
Changing form from river to ocean
Evaporating to rise and fall
As snowflake on frozen pond

Where does beginning begin?
She  perches on tree of life
As sap flows life into her veins
Like a tree she waits.

Once Caterpiller
Once in darkness
Now life as Milkweed angel.
Butterflies are a beautiful mystery to me.  My latest understanding is when they go through metamorphosis, they literally turn into liquid to reform.  This has me in awe!
Sam Feb 21
wake up
breath in and out
take in the new day like a leaf absorbs the morning dew
it's time to go

yesterday's errors are erased when the clock strikes twelve
you are new
you are a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon of coulda-woulda-shoulda
ready to take flight and make brand new beautiful mistakes

you've never had a day quite like today before
you'll never have a day quite like today again
so embrace it
Once there was a lost and lonely caterpillar
Searching for her glitter
But then She found you
Who helped her break through
Allowing time
To help her climb
You sheltered her, helped her transform
Which gave her the power to get through the storm
Letting her bloom
Away from the fumes
Now she has wings
It’s time to cut strings
No looking back
It’s time to unpack
She’s finally found her way
No more sky’s full of grey
No longer scared of the moon
This butterfly no longer needs her cocoon

Co written by
Lucy Burdon and Coco 07
We all go throw our own metamorphosis
OpenWorldView Jan 21
Spin a white cocoon
of lies and self-denial.
Slowly rot inside.
Seeing, knowing, but always taking the easy road.
Pyrrha Nov 2018
I've been changing a lot these days. It feels like up until this point I was just a caterpillar, growing and eating. Absorbing information and understanding. But now I'm ready for the change. Ready to use all that I've learned and absorbed. I've weaved my cocoon and now I am ready to emerge from it's safety and isolation.

Today I leave behind my chrysalis and embrace my life as a butterfly.
Anne J Nov 2018
Little insect that dwells into the dangling cocoon
Lend me your silk that is enhanced in voodoo
Look at the beautiful crystals that are above
That traps the angels and their golden harps and doves
Enhance to me your white smeared poison kiss
And I’ll be sure to melt with not even a hiss
Unravel your gown and engulf me into the silk
That’s already lost its flowers and gained its milk
Made off of two antagonists, who are mother and daughter in my story. I guess you could say the first four lines are for the daughter, and the four are for the mother? They're evil butterfly fairies with the power of making crystals, trapping people in their hair, and I guess some poisonous attack with the "lipstick" they use?
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
Silky cocoon of routine leaves
this metamorphosis stagnating
how the discomfort thieves
the fear of change isolating

The struggle lies in the escape
with no energy left to attempt
monotonous days left to drape
as if life holds me in contempt

Hanging on this lonely branch
sometimes I pray just to fall
monotonous routine's avalanche 
creates days so banal

And then a child finds the lonely silk
plucks carefully into a glass jar
Oh how the curiosity of their ilk
creates this warm inner spar

A want to escape
a need to taste 
freedom's luscious grapes
make haste happiness, 
make haste.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Born from the Han Dynasty
For the royal court
Look, it's powdery cocoon
of thin, flavoured strands
has nutty fillings
a delicate treat
so fluffy
Mwah!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Fourth Epulaeryu for the day!
*** 169 followers! YESSSSS! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOOOOOUUUUU!!!!
Sorry that I haven't responded to any messages yet, today was so long!
And I'm making Dragon Beard Candy for the first time - vanilla flavoured!
I'm watching it cool down like a hawk...it's so fricking slow, it's driving me up the wall! But I'm in awe of how delicate it is. I can't wait to see how it tastes!
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
^-^
Samir Koosah Aug 2018
Lost inside my thoughts at night, silence is muted by the noise of my own mind. A deafening
silence.
Life and death, so fragile, such short moments. Why do we live by them? Time itself is
defined by life and death. By the rise and fall of the sun everyday.
How to define this I am going through right now? I don't feel alive nor dead. Time does not
seem to exist here and now, as the entire known world to me.
Like a caterpillar, trapped inside a cocoon, morphing myself to a butterfly, unaware of the
changes on the outside, of the perils awaiting for her on the outside as she gets out in the
search of the prettiest flowers on the path that leads to her partner, having to guess what
way to go.
Will I emerge as a butterfly or as a moth? Can one choose? Defined by genetics, sure. But
that does not apply here. Self awareness and focus are probably the defining factors in this
case. And if so, I shall emerge out of my cocoon as a beautiful Monarch, to cross the globe
after my soulmate, in a difficult but rewarding journey. Facing all forces of nature to find her,
and to finally be with her to the end of my short existence.
I don't want to leave this capsule as a moth, to hide in the shades and wonder through the
night. I want to emerge as one of her kind, a beautifully delicately coloured butterfly glowing
and reflecting every ray of sunlight that finds her delicate silklike wings.
To Monicah, thanks for all the support and love you've showed, they were and have been crucial in my life. Thanks for convincing me to share my writings.
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