Metamorphosis of thought
In the dark there is life
all I am reduced to elements
Six times before, the hum came, it shed it’s outer skin
each growing and stretching and reaching further out
A lasting nibble of leaf with the setting sun to humming
and pulls itself up to safety under a branch
weaving fresh gossamer threads of the darkness of sleep
becoming translucent, a shell, hardening, a keeping
dissolving inside what it once was, all that which was born in the spring sun
gone the chewing form, gone the inching wiggle, gone the creature of the leaf
In the humming movement deep inside…
were there enough elements to assemble
this new primordial template
so it may stretch and reach the skies?
And we wait.
Waiting for the inner hum of a cracked shell.