Stars in Cocoon

Shining Star

I always wanted to be a shining star.
Then I learned to want nothing—
and nothing overruled every other wanting.

But soon I saw:
if I want nothing,
I am already dead—
a man without purpose.

So I asked myself:
Can I dwell among the stars
and still desire?
Can I shine,
yet still long?

Then I learned:
stars shine through equilibrium.
If they lose their balance,
they tilt,
they fall.

Good and bad are only the pans of a scale.
Only when aligned
upon the hidden axis of the center
do wings unfold—
in that constant tilt of poise
where gravity seizes,
where every force cancels the other.

All wings search for the Right.
All opposites fold into each other like waves—
runaways of stillness,
rushing back home,
coming even as they flee,
like a kitten chasing its tail,
zeroing in on its zero.

And in that return,
the two turn into one:
the singularity,
the Oneness,
the lift that raises them
to the stars.

In butterflies,
metamorphosis never ends.
Within their wings,
the stars remain cocooned.