One idyllic day, in a charmingly diminutive wood laced with shady greens and flowers bloomed, stood a minuscule egg. Woven to rusty snaky branches, swaying in whispering winds and breathing breeze, perfectly contented in sleepy dream and reverie; bliss in tranquil emerald timber. But at last, the time came, for the small sleeper to suddenly awake from slumber long, to break forth from the egg’s scaly dull sheath, into new colors, light and air, new world of heights and rainbow vision; new weaving paths and sharp life! The curious caterpillar carefully crept along the novel crawl-way of tree, taking in sights and sensations never known, auburn vibrations in an ambient forest, striking senses slyly. The carefree caterpillar crunched on flavorful foliage of jade and lime, growing bolder and broader as the wooded world slowly shrunk.
As night drew nigh, a tired, puffy, weary caterpillar inched to inevitable immobility, spinning a silky silhouette; a temporary tomb trapped our friend.
Sleeping, dreaming once more, caterpillar’s chrysalis crowned the wooden watchtower, waiting in womb for wakening. A transformation was stirring in silent twilight as the stars peeked through the leaves to fix gaze upon a little crypt of mysteries. For age and eon the night slept on, but as dawn drew near; our friend stirred surreptitiously in the sinewy stocking.
The Caterpillar craved freedom, squirming and squalid in the cocoon of captivity; breaking out would prove a bittersweet battle. Dawn rose over the dim wood, fog and dew covered the forest in blue diamonds’ refracting rays. Blades stretched to sunlight, shaking dry their slender stalks.
The cocoon quaked, quivers of rebirth and resurrection. The entity enmeshed flipped and fidgeted, breaking loose from languish, desperate to dare to dream, to breathe and be, to skip and see. The suffocating cylinder squeezed some more, seeking to choke the child within. Life and death, light and dark, being and oblivion, the fragile fellow fought, slowly seeking salvation through shackles and strings of sinew.
Suddenly, true vision at long last seized the sad soul! Our fine friend was finally free, marveling at the sharp swaths of silver dew, majestic maroons, opulent oranges, witty whites and other splendid shades in the flowers flitting around the willowy wood.
A new creation, strong from struggle, beheld the butterflies, fluttering free in supple circling soliloquies. A heart hearkened to the multitude of magnificent monarchs, feeling flight ‘neath wobbly, wakened wings.
Knowing a virtuous vigor, our beautiful butterfly flew at last, fashioning a flight in joyous jubilation! The colors cascaded ‘cross novel vistas, unknown and open, a world of wonders untouched, waiting for venturous souls’ pursuits and curious quests to quiet horizons’ sunsets.
Our friend gazed back once last, at the dull shell that caged a caterpillar. Seeing the suffocating struggle no more, feeling the choking carcass not least, knowing that only purging pain and pressure had strengthened the wings enough to finally fly to freedom.
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