chrysalis,
not knowing what mystery may crystallise
from this dissolution,
i have spun myself to silence
on my own thread
and must wait
at this cold root
in absence of moon and sun,
with no image
of what could emerge
from this evolution;
does the caterpillar
conceive
what wings could unfold
from transformation?
unknowing leaps the gap
that reason gapes at;
voices speak
from deep in earth
offering a birth
that must be died for.
cocooned in my ferment,
I lie and wait
to be born.
poetryspeaksong 