Etude #2: The Hope

I cannot stop comparing the tight reality of my cocoon with the dim memory of caterpillar days.  However, it's not that simple to decide which one of those realities is better.  As a caterpillar, I just ate and ate, grew at the fantastic speeds and was concerned only with the repetituous change of  my skin.  As I ate, I grew; as I grew, my old skin would simply tear and fall off.  Then, I would proudly turn the shining side to the light and enjoy the warmth.  What a careless existence!  No time for reflecting, thinking and self-pitying.  And now -I must have stolen all the time in the world and hid it by my side; that's why my cocoon is so suffocating.  Too much time, too litle going on.  Too many phantasies, to little actual knowing.  That's why I rage, closed here.  That's why I am no longer sure if anywhere still exists the light.  That's why I constantly dream of thousands of diamonds, of mighty rays, of Someone coming and reaching for me, saving me.  Me - the weak one, lost in the darkness of Self; claustrophobic and lonely me. 

Dreams... Can a pupal dream?  Can a pupal, ignorant as a plant, think, imagine and hope?  I do think, far too much.  I imagine things I can't see.  I hope that my tight cocoon reality would be widened by Someone and I would be let out.