- A Musing on Ascension -

Firstly, a caterpillar must gorge

its many-legged self, splitting its skin

many times to grow and grow before it is prompted

to raise its swollen length to a chosen branch, stem,

stalk, and spin itself into an unprecedentedly

marvelous time machine

we call a chrysalis

or cocoon. 

Perhaps, like it, we are in 

the moment, at large,

of deep gorging and

swelling, splitting,

growing, growing. 

For many, the inclination

to raise ourselves to the impulse 

(in physics, a force acting—in a moment—

on a body to produce a change of momentum)

to cocoon within, to hew to the deep 

beckon of our awakened, activated 

imaginal cells, is well underway.

I’m imagining their blooming,

as I speak, these cells, like flowers

in a vast and punishing desert.

Like crystals bloom, 

like new moon stars, 

like clouds into 

nourishing,

slaking 

rains.

Like a big idea arises

from the tiniest seed, whiff,

peripheral, the most

confounding

dilemma.

Perhaps the 

dis-ambulating gorge

is a necessary, even unwelcome 

step on the way to borne air, 

however unknowingly

this innate course 

is understood.

Cells that just appear

when the time is right,

when the host is sated,

when the one who has

crawled can crawl no

more, surrounded by

green dreams of 

painted solar-

powered

wings.

Life, 

cycling

her thermals,

spiraling,

spiraling 

up.

This dissolution,

this unmaking to 

remake, is not a 

breakdown, but

a breakthrough

—breathtaking

in its giant 

leap.

Taking 

to air...

like hope

takes to a

glimmer of

nothing 

more

than

itself.

It is a ponder.

—Eve Moore

Photo credit: Arnold Edwards

**

Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.

This poem was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.