Go with the flow, ride the waves, go under, then surface.
One of these days I will run out of steam,
this engine retired, rusted. Until then,
i chug along a thoroughfare,
a complete metamorphisis.
Who is this restless butterfly?
I certainly do not recognize the face.
Silly me! It is me!
New dawn, miles away from long ago,
I reappear and say welcome.