Too small the cocoon for space -
Too tight the web eternal
Was held across the face
This frame the husk, soon to fall -
This blighted soul the kernel.
Felt as I have the wings beating
Incessantly from the inside
And broken, have I been entreating -
To see in the mirror, face to face,
To see the likeness amplified.
Let this stunted soul be swallowed
With all that is good and wise
My earthly body spent and hollowed -
Let a pair of soaring Monarch wings
Be this caterpillar’s prize.
1 Corinthians 13:12
2 Corinthians 5:17
