Blossoming in the moonlit night,
I push forward towards the heavens.
Reaching heights attributed to prominence,
attainable to the pure in heart.
A Golden Orange God waits to answer questions
not yet devised. Streaks of cosmic lights radiate
my skin. My eyes transform into
a reciprocal corridor foreshadowing events
to come.
Destiny unset, fate only written if chosen
to indite such a novel. My hands, hammers
constructing my tomorrow. My feet, carrying
the weight of my purpose hindered by the
strings of nostalgia.
My heart emulates the greats before.
Beating to the rhyme of a caterpillar’s
transcendence into a butterfly. I am
born again.
