Print this article
Chrysalis
Poetry
Published in the Summer-Fall 2021 issue.
A soft fog
wraps itself around
the fading colors
of the season.
A blurry lens
through which
everything looks
embraced
like an infant swaddled.
Such a morning
brings a kind of
peace.
A seed
planted in sleep
and nourished
by the stillness,
imposed,
welcomed.
I am wrapped
in it
like a chrysalis
in a cocoon,
waiting
in slow metamorphosis
to become,
what?
I am not sure.
In truth
we never stop
becoming,
until we choose
to become
nothing. A
conclusion?
Destination?
Beginning?