Splendor
Quiescent in chrysalis
I came and was not recognized,
yet more or less—I am.
Cracked from carapace,
swaddled in evergreen,
wrapped in goodness,
soul flutters like sparrow
as I swell to sun
and swallow honey.
Stretched and still,
time transforms—eventually,
body belongs back to dirt.
Again, and again,
flesh is grass,
beauty eternal.
I, too, am untamed.
I, too, am untranslatable.
There is perfection in you also.
