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  • Writer's pictureFrank Vurraro

The Chrysalis

In the master’s secret place, he forms a tiny chrysalis so often

disregarded in the natural mind. In it, he offers protection, beyond

measures of the temporal mind. Dwelling within, we are his own

precious stones, each facet polished and patterned after the

cornerstone, a mosaic being, wonderfully fashioned within—a divine

plan—fully known only to the master. Each stone radiates a luster, not

exactly like that of the others. Miraculously, all form an eternal unity,

one in perfect order, harmonious and full, a complete bow, holy,

blessed, chosen, predestined. The chrysalis, a tabernacle of the

master’s perfect love, nurtures, comforts, and instructs us, purifies and

prepares each stone for its metamorphosis, only possible at the master’s

appointed time. None ought emerge before that time, into the

unprotected outreaches of what seems to glitter, but in reality leads to

destruction. We must await the master’s hand to be set free, to soar as

monarchs ourselves to great heights, that all might know

the glory from out the master’s secret place.


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