Nearly caught up with myself, this was written on the train back to Sheffield yesterday but I didn't have the opportunity to type it up. It looks like I am writing about a caterpillar but is it an allegory or vice versa?
Last doubts on the path to transformation
Some voice, unbidden, tells me
to build a shelter for my self.
Relinquish temperance of sun and moon.
Forge means to go beyond these tracks.
To break from my chrysalis
and stand a brilliant individual
before the many eyes.
What if I don't recognise what I become?
I've learned my limits, safe places,
where to graze on what I desire,
which hearts beat to the same rhythm.
Where is the promise they won't be lost?
What if wings aren't true freedom?
And if they are,
will the responsibility be too great?
I sew these thoughts into my skin.
The last I shall cast off on this path.
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