So beautiful, wings with heavenly patchwork fluttering to find the light,
but alas the light is Satan’s insidious silver ring’s reflection of the boiling sun,
Red and yellow torment of God’s omnipotence,
of the torment of a helpless little larvae
inching its way to enlightenment, looking for Mama Moth
so sad, enshrouded its thickening cocoon, should be safe and it is,
But it’s also the sinewy hands of Satan trapping her.

Sunrises and sunsets, moonbeams across the lake,
the cocoon opens,
Her wings emerge. She flies!
But her movements are constricted. Choking, nauseating force that keeps her in its orbit
Stuck in its darkness, and she cannot see the light.

A child watches the beautiful creation fluttering helplessly. He pokes and prods with a stick, playfully,
not realizing that the prod was all this moth needed:
to find its way out of the shadows

Now out of the darkness, the light drenches this beautiful creature:
It’s time to dance with the daffodils.