Part Onesies (of a previously created poem)

I look at the world; imagine seeing it all
Including a butterfly’s flight from its shell
Wonder at the fragility of the human soul

I want to pull a Saul and horse-fall into Paul
But peering inside I see this: metamorphosis
Is not inherently inside us at all


So where may one go to be made into ‘me’?
Where can I flee to be understandably ‘free’?

It’s been cried “go to Jesus!”, yet what could that mean
To me; either glorified monkey or broken machine?
Or maybe some world-view is in fact where it is at
But why the hell do you think I should believe that?


NB: the conclusion of this poem shall follow later. Unfortunately, it is too "Christian" for certain fine readers of this fine blog at this fine time.