The Butterfly

In the dark shadows a caterpillar grows,

Through restless nights, a cold wind blows.

Beneath the soft and silent moon,

She mourned within her dark cocoon.

Every night she wept and cried,

For all the sorrow kept inside.

The pain had pierced her like a knife.

She longed to end her fleeting life.

But she was blind she couldn’t see,

The beauty in her misery.

The fear once bound around her soul,

Has turned to peace and made her whole.

Now she spreads her wings to fly

At last, reborn a butterfly