Sonnet For A Moth Poem by moon batchelder

a fat green caterpillar spinning silken dressing room
had sewn itself alone within, and disappeared from sight.
her liquified constituents to brew for many moons
'ere coalescing into future creature of delight.

nor missing former worm she was for what she would beome,
but happily did nap while Nature worked the mystery;
a charm of making. and when she awakened later on,
the metamorphosis proposed some other destiny.

a likely paradigm for time we dwell in matter worlds,
pursuing greeds of selfish need 'til ego has fulfilled
it's lesser destination. yet before our wings unfurl,
the essence of the lessons learned are patiently distilled.

beginning unto end each thought and word or deed we've done
is spinning a cocoon that will decide who we become.