On my way here
I met a worm
and I lifted it up

out here
the trees are buried
in time's salty dunes
and on their graves
overlooking the Western Sea
are flowering heather
as tall
as the once mighty
towering oak
now dwarved

and the worm now slithers
right below their leaves

Tell me, butterfly,
Where did you begin?
Do you remember your roots before you blossomed?

Tell me, butterfly,
When did you decide?
How did you know that it was time?

Tell me, butterfly,
Did you know what you’d become?
That you would make pinpricks of trees that once dwarved you?

And if you didn’t, butterfly,
Then how were you brave?
As you shed skin for wings, comfort for change?

Tell, me, butterfly,
How did it feel to break free?
To see familiar sunlight illuminate your foreign figure?

Tell me, butterfly,
How long did it take to soar?
To flutter your wings like pages in a book?

Tell me, butterfly,
isn’t it daunting?
To transcend? Make reality bend?
To live a life where your beginning means an end?

Tell me, butterfly,
When will I metamorphosize?