Meta by shamansun

Stuffed the fat until the crease

Couldn’t eat another leaf
And when the evening comes to bear
Silky covers do weave with care,
Stiffened legs and hardened soul,
From which the wings of flight may grow
The end of dusk comes dark night,
Caterpillar finds wings of flight.


Slowly as the dawn would come,
Caterpillar age was done
And in place, the meta soul,
Greets the sun so colorful.
What secret has this butterfly?
To be reborn it had to die
The secret that the flowers keep,
From stems to leaves, flowers they reap;

Cover they, in spring of Earth,
Herald another meta birth,

The eyes of humans weep and cry,
But do they know their soul will fly?


(C) Shamansun

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