To the Chrysalis Hanging Outside

I saw this lovely cute thing this morning and decided to write a poem “to” it

You are waiting now.
How long you will be hanging
In limbo is unknown,
But as you have been primed from birth,
You must become a butterfly, grown.

What a strange feeling it must be,
Turning into nutrient goo --
Does it seem like devolving?
Perhaps you are wondering in the waiting,
What will come of this? 

What will come of this?
I have seen the amazing happen,
It remains for you to abide:
The imago* is inside.

I researched a little bit about how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly. Click here. Shared with NaPoWriMo day 20, off-prompt.
* The butterfly’s form inside of the pupa is actually called the imago, which I think is AWESOME! It reminds me of the Imago Dei that each person has.