Hungry little caterpillar
spinning a cocoon
Dreaming of the day
she will fly away soon.
Seasons shift, time flows forward
Our little caterpillar releases from her dreams.
I’ve always seen butterflies as a symbol of change. At this point in my life there is no symbol more representative of my experience. I can effectively say my life as it was is currently in tatters without being overly dramatic. I no longer know who I am or where I’m going. I am left with the singular option of walking forward, hoping not to stumble. Meanwhile, I turn back to my literary pursuits; there’s nothing more helpful then escapism into the written world.