We struggle and crawl, with the worm, through the rubble
Of life’s baser worries and woes,
Until what we called “just a worm” leaves his trouble
And up as a butterfly goes.
Every man has within him this same latent power
To arise from his earth-bound worm-shell
An imago, and spreading his wings to the flower
Of beauty, in godliness dwell.
The steeper the road and the farther the Grail,
But the higher we’ve climbed come the End of The Trail.
by Ray Romine Thursday, September 16, 1943
