Chrysalis

A moment of clarity
I suspect it’s playing a game
I reach out, and it’s gone
My unreality
By a different name
Is what yet to be drawn.

What needs to be done
Always feels right
And when the story had spun
Shying from light,
It always begs to forget
Filling the stores of regret.

Do caterpillars dream of flying?
Do they know they will have wings?
Do they realize that being land-bound
Is just a temporary thing?

Imperceptible? Immense?
I can’t tell, barely there myself
Unable to keep the facade
of pretense
swallowed by the intense
losing all sense
of space, time, and self.

Losing all sense
Changing, yet staying the same,
Thrashing my wits and will,
Am I still me?
In my defense,
This question is unanswered still,
While being reframed.
What will I be?