Metamorphosis

After all, how could I ever be the same now?

Maybe I don’t have to be the same.

Maybe I shouldn’t be.

Maybe being the same would be a tragedy all itself.

I didn’t ask to change,

I didn’t want this,

but I have never asked to change before.

I just did.

It’s in my nature.

As if some natural force beyond my comprehension

keeps pushing me toward

metamorphosis

and renewal.

The process is oftentimes chaotic

and uncalled for

and messy

and counterintuitive,

but maybe change is the one thing keeping me fiercely kind.

The one thing constantly reminding me that

it’s from stardust I was

and it’s to stardust I shall return.