The seed that is to grow
must lose itself as seed.
And they that creep
may graduate through
chrysalis to wings.

Wilt thou then, O mortal,
cling to husks which
falsely seem to you
the self?

by Wu Ming Fu,
twelfth century

I

Tuco turned the phrase over in his mind,
"The seed that is to grow
must lose itself as seed."
Clear, open... true.
Yet complex in what is implied.

But then, that is what holds us
to husks that once nourished us
and now stifle and repel that which we need.

II

The sun does the noon time turn
and shadows change which walls they cling to.
And this morning's pupa¹
becomes this afternoon's Monarch butterfly².

Tuco recalls the Hispaniola butterfly of Hispaniola³
and wonders about its life these days.
But he knew Arlu was waiting for him to get home
so he saddles up, rides out from the cabin
to begin the trek home.

He'd thought of this cabin as home so long
that it seemed strange to be leaving it to go home.
Yet that is a husk he shed some time ago.
This is a place to retire to from time to time
and recharge. But now home is wherever Arlu is.

Such is how life molts the becoming self.
It is from husk to husk we travel on that journey
and avoid what will stifle, repel what we need to be
now.