Page 24 - flying stones

I try to stop changing one more time.
and then, as I release my need for old

and my fear of new, a strange peace

comes over me and I let go. Why?
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

I am startled to be outside my cocoon
looking at myself still inside.

through the chrysalis I see a blanket of warm

colors nurturing a new me. how I feel this
I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

I allow myself to be what I have become.
I am beautiful. I am alive. I belong.

It is so, it is so, it is so.

part 3: butterfly

the milkweed pod bursts, spewing

seeds on silky strands
that drift with the wind to new meadows.

the chrysalis is broken and I emerge,

my self for certain, to world in flight

to where the end begins again.

my flight frees you to be who you are.

you must be you,
you must,

you must be.