Before the caterpillar
Became the butterfly
She whispered to me
Be patient. 
Wait for Time 
To work his magic
On you.
Since that hour
Of communion
With the winged spirit
I have been waiting
Like a wanderer
Who stops by the edge
Of the final forest
Listening to the echoes
Of his fading footsteps
Lingering in the air
Waiting for his voyage
To end. 
And at last
Time, the magician, has come
With hoary hands
To open my heart,
To spill the blood inside,
Into a miracle
Of mingling and merging
With the universe.
Then suddenly
I remember
The butterfly again
Emerging forth
From the confines
Of her golden chrysalis
And take to wings
As she ascends the sky.
And like her
I too am transformed
From the one 
Being of the world
Into the one 
And everything 
Of all existence.


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