A struggling caterpillar perched on top of a leaf—

it sways with the slight summertime breeze.

It fulfills the careful insect in its need for impulse.

But, in the end, impulse is her downfall.

 

The milkweed plant that rests upon the hill isn’t enough for her. 

She craves adventure and instability.

Her life now is predictable—too predictable. 

She has dreams perched at the same altitude as the stars.

 

She’s a fighter.

The greenish creature isn’t willing to give up.

She knows life has more to offer her than these few milkweeds plants.

After all, from her spot on the hill, she can see what the horizon holds.

 

She wishes she could reach the horizon;

the sinking globe that hides behind it seems to call out to her,

Come just a little closer.

She wishes she could, but it isn’t attainable for her.

 

In order to travel that distance she needs wings.

Brilliant orange and black entities sprouted from her back.

But for that she has to trust a power higher than herself.

Her need for control won’t allow it.

 

She isn’t bothered by her lack of flight because of the elegance;

her lack of freedom is what she curses.

She wishes she could be light enough for the wind to carry her away,

but she knows in order to do that she has to let go.

 

She’s learning to let go of all that weighs her down,

embracing her surroundings in a way that no longer ties her down,

but sets her free.

She is slowly becoming aware of how beautiful the milkweed is.

 

She knows she is where she needs to be until she finally feels like she can let go enough for her wings to grow.