Twirling, gliding through the air,
Capturing the eye,
How are your wings so soft and fare,
O dainty butterfly?
Burns within a need to be
As lovely as you are,
Bright and free and beautiful,
Waving from afar.
And so I cry in anguish,
Your truest opposite,
Heavy, fat and slothful,
Helplessly obstinate.
To be rid of sticky fingers
That cling unto the ground!
To be rid of whorish appetite
Irrevocably bound!
But I remember what you once were,
Caterpillar in days of old,
Who, though death had seemed to conquer,
Splendid beauty did unfold.
So now let hope arise!
A fresh new hymn to sing!
When death in me is conquered,
Glory to my Savior King!
No more a crawling glutton,
No more sin's hunted prey!
Raised to life in newness
On that most glorious day!
I thank you, gentle butterfly,
You foreshadow who I'll be,
Made in Creator's image,
One day you'll fade by me.
Your beauty is a promise,
Your Creator is mine too,
And He loves me into beauty
As He's making all things new.
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