Butterfly Poem by Tori Beals

Oh, the twinge of helplessness
of pain tinged with relief.
Is nostalgia comfort?
Or just a comforting thief?
Where is the butterfly's solace from?
Well, the winged need no sleep.
Their joy and laughter overrule
the need for Slumber's Deep.
Silver sounds like singing bliss
and praises belted loud.
There is always a silver lining
if the Son is behind the cloud.
Even with metamorphosis of soul
don't pine for days gone by.
Would you rather be a caterpillar,
or a butterfly?