If I am to be a butterfly or a swan,
Shouldn't I be a ugly cattapiller that thinks alot.
About the other side of ponds that look like oceans,
Or at least refer to the skys when it's a thought.
I suppose I'll just keep my ugly fluid forward cattapiller motion,
With the notion securely in my mind.
When I become my best from a bug to a bird,
I'll bet your merkaba I'll know how to fly.
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