A caterpillar weaves itself into a cocoon. Ages later, but still so sudden, it emerges as a butterfly. It dances in the sky, free free free... And then the net falls.
You see the cycle, try to break it.
The cocoon is brought home, the butterfly born in the cage. Freedom is in her blood, but not her home. She flies away, glimpses freedom, dies.
You see the cycle, cry over it, try something else.
One last cocoon, nearly ready to be shed. You hold it close, let her go, let her choose.
She is far from you, but free.
