Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Cocoon

Not quite yet a butterfly, 
But a spiraling part of waking from a deep sleep, 
Of who you were before the dawn, 
The upgrade shaking off the old parts of a machine.

Through trauma or growth we're evolving, 
Breaking free from old shells, 
To find better fits, 
In the mist of everything we once were. 

The ritual can be confusing, 
You feel lost and unprepared, 
But deep inside - you scream for light, 
As you gasp for different air. 

For this, my dear, is your awakening, 
It's who you've yet to be. 
So open your eyes little caterpillar,  
The best is yet to be. 

By Trish Huntley