| Special Flight Insight |
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A caterpillar came crawling, slowly, across a leaf; His movement slow, his whole life underneath. Acceptance reigns supreme. This is his role. Little legs hump along; tiny teeth to chew a hole. His progress may seem very slow, Accomplishments he may not show. And, he requires camouflage From swooping birds at large. He does not fly or laugh, or play. His thoughts the same, every day. To this simple life he does adapt. Would he be called handicapped? He has no wings. He dreams no dreams. He has no height. He craves no light. Don't lift me up. Why should I fly? Leave me alone. Don't ask me why? To be lifted higher is to be unreal. I see a few centimeters. I want what I feel. I like my security of what's known to me. Surely, with my eyes is all there is to see. I know not of iridescent colour, that wings may be. I only know the cumbersome grind I suffer, constantly. What use have I of nectar sweet, When leaf juice, alone, is all I want to eat? To remain the same gives me control to decide. I like the security of being able to hide. You tell me a story, that there is much more. I am but mortal, nothing more in store. What of angel wings and freedom of flight. I want reality. For, that is my light. What of transformed bodies, not for me. How could I cope with the heavenly? But, if? ... I do wonder about This new life, this being 'born anew'. Surely, it must be only for a chosen few. To see unseen must be a splendiferous view. A whole different world, could it be true? It would be such a miracle to give me wings, To set me free so I could fly In the beautiful garden of eternity. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable and we will be changed. Where, O death is your victory? Where, O death is your sting 1 Corinthians 15:51-53,55 |
| Other poems by Derry A large collection of poems, submitted by Derry |
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