Christ & Chrysalis

Old man. Old woman.
No longer caterpillar agile.
Softness of baby's behind
traded for sinew and coveted tautness--
silly, temporary attractions as
the ticking of the clock undoes the ideal.
a hidden timer paces,
erases youth and
changes our faces,
pushing, unstoppable,
to reveal the real.

Skin thickens and thins on cue
cartilage boils as bones brittle,
Hair--husklike hangs by strawy thread
or falls away leaving polished head casement
knees grind,
as the stair-bounding youth
now sinks to the basement.

Our insides liquefy in the
hardening exterior of our former selves.
Memories churn insequentially
and dreams barely rise
flowing like the waning tides
as our souls gel.

Larvae, Self, Pupae, Chrysalis--
Monarch-winged miracle
will burst from all this?

Only so, if the timeless soul
has tied its silver thread
to the leaf-greened shade of Jesse's Tree.
Only then will Christ and Chrysalis
coalesce to bursting flight
and winged-liberty!

by Rev. E. Neil Culbertson © 2007. All Rights Reserved.