Unwittingly locked inside a cocoon--not of her own weaving--
Butterfly flutters frantically, but never thinks of leaving.
She's unaware of the load she bears;
Cannot afford to think that there
Might be a sinister intent in the one she is believing.

Unwittingly locked inside a cocoon comprised of pain and silence,
Butterfly paces quietly, and tries to forget the violence-
The casual torture of her soul,
The prolonged death consuming her whole...
Not understanding the unceasing demanding assault upon every sense.

Unwitting locked inside a cocoon that has grown overly tight,
Butterfly yearns for the passing of years to usher her into the light.
Distance is power; the safety of hours
Is the balm that soothes while Reality glowers,
And she cannot decide whether Wrong or Right is what prompts her urge for immediate flight.

Unwittingly locked inside a cocoon now mercifully unraveling,
Butterfly peeks through splintery cracks down the path she is slowly traveling.
A gentle love; a fragrant hope;
A gift from God; a strong sure rope
Supports her as she walks along the edge of what she once had found a mystery un-worth tackling...


I wrote that probably around half a year ago... maybe closer to a year. I wrote the last stanza in faith. Right now, stanzas 1-3 apply in a big way.

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