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Butterfly (15-01-97)

When I, a cocoon, began to emerge

Was I retarded by some surge

Of hostile chemical, a teaching,

That fatally misconstrued my aim?

How did I end up this way,

And only now I begin to see I erred

Because of one-sided attitude

Not all the needed nutrients given

Imbalance deadly and pervasive

And now I find myself, ages later,

Unable to fly, still half trapped

In an out of date, restrictive cocoon

I long to FLY

Why, O God, why?

But deep down I know this is my suffering with Him

I would fly rejoicing, heedless in the sun, supreme,

Unknowingly utterly vulnerable, but now vulnerable

On Him I must steadfastly, consciously rely

Knowing that in the time that I die to self I can fly

And when I follow the Living First-cocoonless butterfly

Then I shall be like Him, flying iridescent, carefree,

In the new world of freedom that is yet to be given

When the cocoon of Spirit life within

Bursts out into resurrection body like as to His.

How I long for that day to come!

Come, Lord Jesus, come!




(c) Nathanael Lewis 1997