a butterfly flutters past my window.
hard to imagine it was once a caterpillar.
hard to imagine a butterfly was once a
strange-looking insect like that.
amazing the transformative power
of nature
except how it has transformed me
from a virile young stallion to a dried
up old nag.
I would like to be as buoyant as a butterfly
but those days are gone for me.
Now the only buoyancy I can attain
is the freedom of my impending death
when like the earthbound caterpillar that
transforms into the radiant butterfly,
this earth-cocooned body will be reborn
into the freedom of a buoyant, beautiful spirit.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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