Cocoon

They are holding up on tress,
The many facets of metamorphosis,
Can you see them weaving upon the winds?
The dreams of flowers transforming into the rain?

Such pauses in nature, Oh —Ophelia”

Their capsules Warning ours growing ankles to sail feet to ground,

To the Point of collapsing,
Under the eyes of wonderful moments,
Which sail to transform us into butterflies.

The eye of wonders of which they belong to,
Call us, one last time,
To secretly speak our names,

To the mountains, To the seas, to the sky

 Oh. Cocoon they say!