I once heard a tale      of a beautiful butterfly, While young he was kind      warm, full of glee and happiness, Then was noticed      by an uncaring wilderness, Frightened of this;      was forced into chrysilis,           cold ...           dark ...           alone ...      ... a change occurred ...           slowly; but it did happen ... Out of this cold      death like sleep; He arose bold,      and more wise And just recent,      finally made an accent;      to the sky.   -T. Gene Davis