“Toward Perfection,” New Era, July 2004, 51
I would run,
ecstatic with movement,
wind at my heels.
like the enchanted butterflies,
soaring, stoutly climbing to the clouds
until I grew lost in the stars and forever.
I crawl slowly but steadfastly,
fanning my wet wings,
glad for an eternity
to fulfill my ambitious desires
a little frightened of letting go of
the last strands
of my silken cocoon.