Poem by :iconmdandree: .. thank you so much, Mark.. :) :hug:
As a butterfly soared overhead, one caterpillar said to the other: “You’ll never get me up in one of those things!"
Yet for every caterpillar the time comes when the urge to eat and grow subsides and he instinctively begins to form a chrysalis around himself. The chrysalis hardens and you’d think for all the world that the caterpillar is dead.
But one spring morning the life inside that chrysalis begins to writhe, the top cracks open and a beautifully formed butterfly emerges. For hours she will stand stretching and drying her wings, moving them slowly, up and down, and then, before you know it, the butterfly glides aloft, effortlessly riding the currents of the air, alighting on flower after flower as if to show off her vivid colors to the bright blossoms.
Somehow, the miracle of the butterfly never loses it’s fascination for us, perhaps because the butterfly is a living parable of the promise of resurrection?
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