Chrysalis
Just sludge?
A life-generating embryonic broth
of ecdysone and chitin-binding proteins,
undifferentiated imaginal cells,
whose discs predicate wings, eyes, antennae.
Science says it is enzymes and hormones doing this and that:
metamorphic, biochemical and molecular sequenced compounds
in an apparently inert, living thing,
radiation resistant,
cooking in its skinny bag
according to a preordained recipe or program - it’s species’ archetype.
At the atomic level, NMR,
solid or liquid ratios depend on its nuclear spin;
along with an underlying genetic blueprint - intelligently planned.
Something coherent out of nothing,
interacting seamlessly with its external surroundings,
impacted by temperatures and elements;
imbibing nutrients, energy, moisture
and light quotients.
Holometabolous transmutation
analogous, so one wonders,
to human spirit regeneration, transfiguring to an angel.
Or insects’ recycling.
It is a process rather than a thing.
After the pupaic stage, having digested all it needs from outside,
it gets the phospholipid signal
“eat me”:
to dissolve itself - via ectochrome, capsase,
as the process of pyknosis fragments the DNA.
Apoptosis is the way an exoskeleton ingests itself, turning inside out
while reconstituting certain parts.
All that the butterfly becomes
is already pre-configured in the caterpillar form.
Even a memory and entrainment of the previous stage
persists in the mutated one.
Miracles. Magic, actually.
Feb