Credit: Scott Liddell
I, who crept the little earth's dark surface,
I, who peered into the death's hollow skull,
Have raised my eyes above the tallest grass-blades
And seen the sun rise, swift and beautiful.

I, who felt my way in slow chrysalis,
Now dry bright wings upon my prison bars,
And confidently stretch my soul's antennae
To take the utmost measure of the stars.

~ Marion Doyle

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