Stepping into the Unknown

A caterpillar quickly walks by
my morning meditation,
Compelled by forces that are secreted
from the casual observer.

What do I know of you?
That you are a white and black ghost
Of late summer
Foreshadowing things to come.
That you are playing your part
Spontaneously, yet
Well rehearsed,
Guided by a deeper knowledge
Inherited over countless generations,
And that you will soon be something quite different
Changing effortlessly, so it seems
As your destiny requires of you.
No preparations,
Nor choices,
No fears
Of what is to become of you,
Nor anything beyond simply doing
The next given thing.

You are the Buddha bug
Stepping into the unknown.