Becoming A Butterfly
It’s hard becoming a butterfly
And sometimes tiresome scoring the sky
On tremulous wings to stay in flight,
But it’s much better to reach the heights
Than labor such, inch by inch, on the ground
And would bring anyone lofty down
Because earthen thoughts worketh woe
To anyone who supposes as though
They are but wild and merely alone
In a remote place, only they own
With nothing higher
Than animal desire.
Perhaps, we shouldn’t judge worms such as these;
Truthfully, it depresses me.
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