The Caterpillar’s Song

Prologue

And it came to pass on the forty-fourth dawning of the life of Amil the Caterpillar that he felt a flame of fire within the midst of his inward parts. But Amil was perplexed, for though his heart burned with fire, yet it was not consumed, nor did he feel pain.

“How very odd,” he thought to himself, “For until now I have never felt such a burning in my inward parts. As for pain, I feel none, but rather that something deep inside is changing within me. I wonder what it is that causes such a stirring?”

And before long the burning had only grown, and though he thought with all his might about what might be causing it, he remained at a loss for any sort of reasonable solution. So he said to himself, “I will seek answers from the other creatures which dwell under the sky and fly above the earth. For my days have been few, and my knowledge is little.”

The Mole

So he crept down the flower from upon which he had taken refuge during the night, and once he reached the dirt below, the mole which burrowed beneath surfaced. So the caterpillar called out to him.

“Lo, Mole!” He called.

“Lo, Caterpillar!” The mole called back.

“One thing I ask of you, this is that which I seek: that you may be able to explain to me why there is a deep burning in the depths of my heart. Have you ever felt such a stirring?”

“No, Caterpillar,” the mole answered, “Never have I felt such a stirring. But perhaps if you would join me in my tunnels below, going to and fro in the earth and burrowing up and down in it, your burning heart will be at peace; for life is grand in the soil of the earth, and sight is clear. There your eyes shall be opened, and you shall be as the Butterfly, filled with more knowledge than you seek even now.”

“I would rather not walk about in darkness,” the caterpillar said. “I think that I will take my chances up here, where at least the air is warm and light shines forth.”

“Well, then, I cannot help you, Caterpillar. Perhaps the Koi Fish can,” the mole said, and dug back into the ground.

The Koi Fish

So the caterpillar pondered these things, then crept to the edge of the pond, and he called out to the koi fish that swam in its waters.

“Lo, Koi Fish!” He called.

“Lo, Caterpillar!” The koi fish called back.

“One thing I ask of you, this is that which I seek: that you may be able to explain to me why there is a deep burning in the depths of my heart. Have you ever felt such a stirring?”

“Only once, Caterpillar,” the koi fish answered, “Have I ever felt such a stirring in the depths of my heart. It was many moons ago, when the spawn of my belly came to fruition, and my offspring passed out of me. During the days before they passed out of my belly, I felt such a stirring in my inward parts, but it has since then left from me, as have my children. I have been fruitful and multiplied, but now I dwell alone; I fear life is vanity.”

“But why would you fear so, Koi Fish?” The caterpillar asked.

“The futility of time,” the koi fish said softly, “Has burdened me through the vessel of loneliness. Whither I go, whither I be, darkness follows. As the night grows long and shadows lengthen, life becomes more and more as a passing mist; a breath that passes away and does not come again. Indeed, my heart was hot within me, but now, my days are as handbreadths, and my age is as nothing before the Butterfly. Certainly every creature at his best state is but vapor.”

The caterpillar considered these things and said, “For that I am sorry. Yet your burden is not mine, for no offspring reside within me, and my days are not enough to understand the futility of life; though they are enough to comprehend that something is changing within me.”

“Well, then, I cannot help you, Caterpillar. Perhaps the fox can,” the koi fish said, and swam back into the waters.

The Fox

So the caterpillar crept to the border of the forest, and there he found a slumbering fox. So he called out to him.

“Lo, Fox!” He called, but the fox did not respond, for his sleep was deep.

“Lo, Fox!” He called again, but more loudly.

Yet the fox did not awake, so the caterpillar went to seek answers from the sparrow which flew above.

The Sparrow

So the caterpillar crept up a large tree, and once he had reached its peak, he found a soaring sparrow. So the caterpillar called out to him.

“Lo, Sparrow!” He called.

“Lo, Caterpillar!” The sparrow called back.

“One thing I ask of you, this is that which I seek: that you may be able to explain to me why there is a deep burning in the depths of my heart, which only grows within me. Have you ever felt such a stirring?”

“I have, Caterpillar,” the sparrow answered, “I felt it long ago, when I was a young chick. Then I had a great zeal for life and its many wonders, for I was captivated by the towering mountains with their snow-topped beauty, the sparkling streams with their bubbling songs, and the Butterfly with His glorious wonder. But now, I have grown, and who I was then has changed into who I am now—and that person is entirely different. Over the years, my burning has lessened.”

“So then,” asked the caterpillar, “Your heart has cooled?”

And the sparrow thought, then answered, “No, it has not cooled in its entirety, but rather a tepid kindling remains, able to be reignited at any time. Though I should hope it does not; I prefer living as though there were nothing to worry about tomorrow, for today has enough troubles of its own.”

“I must confess, I fear for life—that each day may be my last,” the caterpillar said. “That is why I must seek my answer today, for I do not even know what will happen tomorrow, or who I will be by then.”

“I say this to you,” The sparrow said confidently, “I am rich, have become wealthy, and have need of nothing—why should I fear?”

“Inasmuch as that may be so for you, my fear only grows,” the caterpillar said.

“Well, then, I cannot help you, Caterpillar. Perhaps another one of you kind can,” the sparrow said, and flew away.

The Other Caterpillar

So the caterpillar crept to a flower grove, and there among the leaves he found another caterpillar, and he called out to him.

“Lo, brother!” He called.

“Lo, brother!” He called back.

“One thing I ask of you, this is that which I seek: that you may be able to explain to me why there is a deep burning in the depths of my stomach, that grows every moment. Have you ever felt such a stirring?”

“I have, brother. In fact,” the other caterpillar answered, “I feel it even now. It is not a stirring of pain, but of something that I cannot express. But I know that something has changed within me. I myself only first felt it upon this morn, but am unaware as to why.”

“How coincidental!” The caterpillar exclaimed. “It was this very dawn that I, too, first felt a like burning in my inward parts. What do you suppose it might be?”

“I had not considered what might have caused it,” the other caterpillar said to him, “Nor have I given it a moment of thought other than as I speak of it now.”

“Do you not seek the answer, the certainty of knowledge? Do you know worry that who you are is changing?” the caterpillar asked.

“I care not,” the other caterpillar answered, “For either this stirring within us will worsen, or it will pass on. I may be changed tomorrow, but I choose not to dwell upon it. Whatever happens, I am untroubled, as the Butterfly is untroubled.”

“There! All the creatures that I inquired of today spoke of this Butterfly. I have never heard of Him; what is He?”

“I do not know what He is, I only know that He lives far to the north, in a cool garden,” the other caterpillar said. “I cannot help you, brother, but perhaps He can.” And he crept away.

The Butterfly

So Amil the Caterpillar set his mind to seek the Butterfly, and he traveled far north to the garden, through many forests of grass and across mountainous hills. By the time he arrived, the sun was mid-set, casting molten gold rays of light through the air. There, amidst the cool of the garden, he found the Butterfly, with jewels on His right wind and on His left, which glowed in the setting sun behind Him.

“Lo, Butterfly!” He called.

“Lo, Caterpillar!” He called back.

“One thing I ask of You, this is that which I seek: that You may be able to explain to me why there is a deep burning in the depths of my stomach. Far have I traveled, and long have I sought, but still the answer evades me. You are my final hope; I beg You, O marvelous Butterfly—help me!” The caterpillar cried. “Have You ever felt such a stirring?”

“Yes, Caterpillar,” the Butterfly answered, with a voice like many waters, His beautiful blue wings shimmering, “I have felt the stirring of which you speak. It is a stirring that I, too, experienced long ago.”

“I confess, the desire for knowledge is burning me alive, as it feels my heart does to me. Please, hear my cry, disclose what You know upon my ears, and wait no longer!”

“Patience, Caterpillar, I have heard your cry,” The Butterfly said. “That which you seek is this: the deep burning in the depths of your stomach stems from none other than the initiating process of the sanctification of metamorphosis.”

“Metamorphosis? I have never heard of such a thing,” The caterpillar said.

“Soon, you will understand. Behold,” the Butterfly spoke unto the caterpillar, “You shall be made as in a glass into My image, beautiful and shimmering, with jewels on your right wing and your left. It shall be a slow, enduring process, but once it is finished, you shall be made complete.”

“I fear that this stirring within me will change who I am, or who I will be. All my life I have been trying to understand who I am and move towards myself, but now I feel that life brings me to a place out of my control.”

“To move towards yourself, Amil,” The Butterfly said, “You must move away from yourself.”

“Surely such knowledge is too wonderful for me, and I cannot understand it,” the Caterpillar said.

“Worry not, young caterpillar, for with each passing day you will begin a slow ascent of understanding, otherwise said: day unto day utters speech; night unto night reveals knowledge.”

And the caterpillar beheld the shimmering, glowing presence of the Butterfly, and he meditated on these things. Long and deep did he ponder, and the Butterfly remained still, in a peaceful presence of silence. And by the time the caterpillar again spoke the sun had set, and the stars had begun to glimmer.

“I am afraid,” the caterpillar trembled.

“Do not fear, Amil, for though the sanctification of metamorphosis is lengthy and drawn out, remember My face, and that yours will soon be like it,” the Butterfly said, and fluttered away. And Amil was left with only a silhouette of the Butterfly burned into the depths of his mind.

The Metamorphosis

So the Caterpillar traveled back through the forests of grass and the mountainous hills under the glimmering stars in the sky, and when he had returned to the flower upon which he slept, he contemplated all which he had heard that day. The enticement from the mole, the vanity from the koi fish, the slumber from the fox, the tepidness from the sparrow, the indifference from the other caterpillar, and the knowledge from the Butterfly; but most of all, the knowledge from the Butterfly.

And there upon the flower the burning in his heart only grew. Before long, he found himself compelled by a sudden and unprecedented knowledge, and in a daze he became hung upside down.

“What is this hardening of my skin?” He wondered. “And the stirring within me has gone from a fire to a raging blaze—I am being consumed! But yet…I still feel no pain. What is happening to me?”

And the world outside became black, silent, and still.

Not a word came out of him, and not a word came in. But he existed absolutely alone, save for the company of his mind. And he felt himself slipping away, but in a burst, before he lost consciousness, he was filled with a great wonder and joy, and a song erupted from the depths of his soul.

The Caterpillar’s Song

Three things do I seek:

Knowledge, Sanctification, and

myself—

My true self.

I cannot obtain these things in my current state

Of wretchedness,

But must crawl out of my old man

Like a snake shedding its skin,

And grow into someone new.

Who I was I will presently be no longer,

And though it may be wearisome and difficult,

I shall become

Holy.

And it came to pass on the forty-fifth dawning of the life of Amil the Caterpillar that he dissolved into nothingness, and his old self was passed away.

Epilogue

In the midst of utter darkness, Amil arrived back to the state of consciousness with a startling cry. His blurred vision focused on a distant light, and he reached out with unknown features, ripping open the chrysalis that surrounded him, and suddenly sensation flooded through him. Colors he had not known before vibrantly leapt out at him, the scent of pollen ignited his nostrils, and the warm sun began to dry his dampened wings. He could feel the wings, but he could not see them himself.

So he waited for his body to warm, then he flew—yes, flew!—to the edge of the pond, past the indifferent caterpillar, past the tepid sparrow, past the sleeping fox, past the enticing mole, and arrived at the pond of the koi fish who had since passed away.

Reflecting back to him upon the face of the waters was a creature resembling that of a butterfly, but no color was present in his wings; only blank white appeared. And the Butterfly appeared beside him, and together they gazed in silence at Amil’s reflection upon the face of the waters.

Then the Butterfly asked, “Has the burning in your heart ceased?”

“No,” Amil answered, “It has grown, but it has changed, as I have changed.”

The Butterfly considered this, then inquired, “Since you have attained the knowledge you so earnestly journeyed after, what is it now that you will seek?”

And Amil thought with all his might, then responded, “I will seek how to gain such beautiful jewels as Yours, for my own wings are plain and lifeless; the one thing I now desire is to look as in a glass like You and take after Your own heart.”

And the Butterfly smiled, and said, “Follow me, and I will show you what you must do.” Then he fluttered away.

So Amil the Butterfly did as he was commanded, and took flight, following the Butterfly in His own path.