The Death Of A Caterpillar Is Not Necessarily A Bad Thing Poem by Gene Olson

It starts out as such a small thing
Not knowing what it will become
At first there is much growing
But the changes are quite awkward

As it grows and it strengthens
So also do the dangers
For if it is discovered
It will surely bring disaster

As time goes on it changes
Gaining that silky soft fuzz
And stunningly beautiful colors

It has grown from its primitive beginnings
To this wonderful, coveted beauty

But, alas as theses things often do
The time comes for it to be covered up
Tucked in and put to bed

It lies dormant for so long
One may think that it is dead
But within that self inflicted imprisonment
It is going through monumental changes

It emerges from the darkness
In a completely different form

The colors are still stunning
But now it takes to the air
With the new found ability to fly
And the grace to ride the currents

It will experience the world anew
And it has not lost any of its former beauty
It has merely freed itself from the constraints
That were consealing its true freedom and exquisite beauty

As the unremarkable caterpillar changes
To the elegant, graceful butterfly
So too can hopeless love and yearning
Morph into a beautiful friendship
With more freedom to grow
And go wherever the wind will take it