The Chrysalis

I love this time of year. The Earth practically throbs with the expectance of new life: the spring bulbs burst into flower, the birds manically gather nesting material, the evening light speaks of hope. A blackbird sings its heart out in the wolf-light of dawn. I feel inexplicably cheerful, down to the core of my being. I am filled with a sense of anticipation, that I am about set off on adventure that will lead me who knows where. I await to emerge from the cocoon that has encased me during the winter months. As I gradually strip away the fat from my frame I see the muscle emerge beneath my skin, useful flesh that has been dormant and underused for many a year. I am reshaping myself. I am aware also that my mind needs the discipline of a new regime too. I need to slough off the superfluous accretions that impede my progress, to concentrate, to refine, to train my intellect to accept new challenges, to abandon redundancies. I aspire to both a mental and physical metamorphosis: to still be me, but a leaner, more muscular, more astute version.