metamorphosis

It's coming,
the time of the cocoon.
The waiting, the darkness, the silence.

The chrysalis is around the corner,
so surely we must ready ourselves.
Eat up, store up, prepare, take stock, fill the tank, stack the shelves:
The plenty of autumn harvest assembled against the winter wilderness.
Are you ready?

Hibernation is about to take hold.
What have you arrayed for the shade?
Do we even know the change that is upon us?

Replete with all you think you need, 
bags stuffed with 'just in case' and 'maybe this will come in handy';
Or caught unaware, cupboard bare, none to spare?
Or will you be as I: somewhere between, fretting over what to pack;
unsure of submitting to the process;
knowing the time is near yet hovering in fear...
Are we ever truly ready for transformation?

The hairs rise on the back of my neck as I feel its waiting breath -
 a little death -
I don't want to go in! 
I am afraid of the cave,
the waiting, the darkness, the silence.
Yet my chrysalis awaits me.

And as I pause on the threshold
Trembling
Reluctant
The whisper speaks:
"Be at peace, 
matters not if you've come with nothing or everything,
hands empty or laden, it is enough.
Only one thing is needed:
already provided
it awaits you within;
Ruach - breathe in - 
Won't you come in
and begin
your metamorphosis?"