The caterpillar thinks that life is done,
With sorrow he does forge his final shell,
Succumbing to his prison with no sun,
Resigned he slowly paves his road to hell.
He waits and wonders lonely in the dark,
The silence interminable wears on,
The view ahead is dim and bleak and stark,
And soon his future dreams will all be gone
He yearns for it to end but fights the urge,
A tiny speck of light still hopes for more,
And then victorious she does emerge,
More lovely than she ever was before,
She’s made it past the asking how and why,
And now it’s time to spread her wings and fly.