Does the Caterpillar Dream of Soaring?

Life was so predictable, until the moment in time it wasn’t.
Each day a routine, move from leaf to stem then back to leaf
Eat and then eat some more, driven by an unseen need
To consume, never satisfied, always one more bite, one more leaf

Then inexplicably she paused, her hunger satiated
Upon the slender twig she rests, and ponders this new sensation
More than a feeling alone, more than a simple question, what comes next?
She reflects on far she has come, yet how far is left to go?

Driven by a forces unknown and unseen, to fulfill her role
In a play of which she laments, she will not see the final act.
Looking about, the acceptance grows that this sprig
Would be a good place to die

Anchoring herself, she prepares for whatever is to come
Tomorrow is surrendered, gone the drive to consume,
Will she mourn for those lost days of simple routine?
Miss the sun, the breeze, the moon at night?

And what awaits her on the other side of the darkness?
If it was within her power would she resist?
Will she awaken to her resurrection?
And if awareness returns does memory follow?
Beginning with a single thread, with a knowledge unlearned
She weaves her final shroud one strand at a time
With each successive wrap of silk, the light growing dimmer
Signals the end is closer now.

As the darkest closes in, can the promise of wings,
And a dream of flying, ease her final passage?

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