a poem for you

The Butterfly, by jo

Does the beautiful butterfly know she has wings?
Is she aware of ethereal flashings beating behind her
supporting her every action?
twisting. flitting. through morning's dew.
fragile and eternal
Supported with gossamer veils
existing in both worlds.

Does she know of them?
Is she aware she is always connected?
in all ways supported.
Does she sometimes wonder at herself?
feel alone and separate.
Only catching glimpses in peripheral
madly chasing
moving wildly to grasp that which is her birthright.

That which could not leave her -

for even a caterpillar is a butterfly,
if only on the inside.
and that is where it counts.