They say the butterfly dissolves into nothing but goo inside the chrysalis. It evolves from that creepy little caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly after undergoing agonizing changes.
I am there now.
Totally destroyed.
I've lost nearly everything important to me in this moment. My Muse has disappeared. The person who supported me on my chat is gone. I am not drawing my pictures. I am not painting. I am barely able to think, let alone write lately.
I am starting a new job in my mid seventies working with women who are sometimes a quarter my age. I come home so exhausted that I can barely function and only rest until the next time I go to work.
But I am still alive! I am beginning to acclimate. l will survive!
I think maybe my wings are beginning to form and I wonder.
Will I be a butterfly? Will I find myself out seeking the nectar from the flowers once more? Will I find poetry in these last beautiful years of my life on earth?
Will the light finally lift me up into what I was meant to be? Is it too late, or just in time?
These are the dreams I dream tonight.
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