You are free, and that is truly all

By Phoenix Mcdaniel

She inched toward the venue, slowly

A caterpillar is what she was

Surely, she was beautiful in her own right

Yet, still, something about her was sluggish and weighty 

As if the many segments along her thorax and abdomen contained the world

The world and all the multiplicities of her being

The weight of it all 

The fatigue of it all

The pain of it all 

Surely, she was beautiful in her own right 

Yet, still, something about her was fragile 

As if the weight she carried was nearing too much to handle 

As if one more thing would cause her to burst

After prolonged moments of moving, she could finally see the building

A building tucked away from time 

A building that did not abide by any conventional structures

A building that had seen many come and go 

A building as diverse as one could be 

A building at the intersection of contemporary times and the entirety of history 

A building full of energy

A building full of hope 

A building with the blueprints for a better tomorrow 

Most importantly, a building with power

Power to take away her weight, if only for a moment 

After prolonged moments of moving, she inched down the stairs

Her caterpillar body nearly not making it all the way down 

Greeted, she was, by two moths 

Two beautiful white moths who allowed her entry 

Then, a transformation took place

A most wonderful transformation 

Her caterpillar body would be swallowed up 

In the courtyard of the building, a cocoon she would become 

Surely, this cocoon was beautiful in its own right 

Yet, still, something about it was unmoving

Trapped in a waiting place

Waiting, waiting for the power that the building held 

Others around her were mixed states of being 

Some were still caterpillars

As if the building didn’t hold the same power for them 

Maybe they became moths elsewhere

Some were also cocoons

As if they felt the power she did

Maybe some of them were starting to experience what she was

Some were already moths 

As if the power had already been strong enough

Or, maybe, just maybe, they were always that way 

Surely, this cocoon was beautiful in its own right 

Yet, still, something about it was observant 

Merely listening to those around it

Until 

The faint sound of a pick strumming along the strings of a guitar could be heard 

The sound of a light tap of a stick on a drum cymbal fluttered through the air 

The lights inside the building began to dim 

The power of the building was taking shape 

They all began to enter the building 

An empty circle forming in the middle 

Her cocoon, too, had rolled in 

The music began 

And the power was beginning to take shape 

The music was loud 

Louder than most would prefer it

But it was the type of loud that held energy 

The type of loud that held hope

The type of loud that held the future

The type of loud that held the power 

Then, another transformation took place

A most wonderful transformation 

Her cocoon would be torn

In the center of the building, a beautiful white moth she would become 

She was free

Finally

She could fly about the mosh pit as she pleased

Fluttering in time with the music 

Her weight, fatigue, and pain were all gone 

Gone like they were never even there

It was almost spiritual, what was happening to her 

She wasn’t just a moth, but an angel 

An angel, ascending to heaven 

In this moment, nothing mattered

She was free and that was all 

Nothing meant anything 

She was free, and that was truly all

The night went on

She continued to fly 

Until it was over 

And all the moths began to die 

As she exited the building, heading in the direction of home 

Another transformation took place

A most terrible transformation

A death of sorts

Her wings fell off

As she headed back home, a caterpillar she would again become 

Her moth state was temporary

Fleeting, if you will 

Coming only every so often 

When the moment was just right 

Yet, she wouldn’t forget how the music made her feel

Although she was now again fragile, this wouldn’t be the end 

Every chance she got, she would search for the power to become a moth 

And experience that freedom once more 

Maybe she could find it in the lying shade of the trees

Maybe she could find it making friends

Maybe she could find it gazing at the stars

Maybe she could find it whenever she felt simple peace

Wherever it was

Surely, she would always find it 

She could even will it into existence

If that was what she wished 

Surely, she was weighty and in pain 

But this was only temporary 

She could find the pockets of time to search for freedom 

And instead feel exactly how she wanted 

Because life is hard, yet equally simple 

And if you only begin to take pleasure in the things you do 

For a moment you become a moth 

A beautiful white moth 

And maybe the world stops spinning 

Because in that moment, nothing matters

You are free and that is all 

Nothing means anything 

You are free, and that is truly all