Caterpillars crawl and have limited vision
Fighting others over territory or food
Building walls or spacships or AI
Stuck in their wormy existence
They bow to a worm painted orange
And bestow him with powers
And obsess about genitals
And remain a crawly juvenile
It’s laughable and sad
To see what they can’t see
Their inner magnificence hidden
Behind dogma and desire
Maturing takes letting go
Of the familiar
Of fear of the unknown
And fear of dissolving
There is no separation
We are worm and wings
Cycling from sleep
To wakefullness
Butterflies lay the eggs
From which they emerge
But too many die
Before they fly.
barb j beyers 