Before the butterfly

could fly

it had to crawl

Before the bird was born

a shell had to crack

and break

Before the diamond could shine

the soul had to let go

of the dirt it was clinging too

Before the life of morning

the pilgrim had to push through the crying

and wandering wind
clutching the mystery of grace

that was there even in the stumbling

and falling beside the trail

the hard love that lives on despite the suffering

revealed in the strength to rise again

to let go of the burden of what might have been

to grasp the burning opportunity for growing

wiser in the things that really matter

to press on to a new beginning