Chrysalis Inn

This is a journal page I made a few weeks past, inspired by a poem written by my good and talented friend, David.  I have his permission to share the poem with you here.  I hope it speaks to you as it did to me.

There is no sign saying

"Welcome to the Chrysalis Inn."

That's where I am sleeping now.

That's where I stay,

not yet dreaming butterfly dreams,

but dreams of change, nontheless.

What caterpillar ever really knows

what's locked inside its genes?

But while I dream,

I still work magic,

I still write words,

I still see visions.

I am my own Messiah.

David Lintner 2000.0123/r2007.1109

Today has not been especially kind, nothing major, just a bout of angst. I love that word, angst. It makes this experience seem like dark, romantic literature. "Oh", she said collapsing on the fainting couch, the back of her dainty hand lightly resting on her pale forehead. "Why must I suffer this angst?"  See, it makes feeling all edgy seem glamorous. 

Revisiting this poem, however, made me feel rested, safe and whole.  Wishing the same for you.