Those Who Do Not Open

The Ones Who Never Open

Those who fear the different
build cocoons not for change,
but for hiding.

They wrap themselves in sameness,
a silence padded with what they already know,
what looks like them, thinks like them,
moves like them.

But unlike the caterpillar, they do not emerge.
They do not seek the wind.
They do not feel the warmth
of an unfamiliar sun.

There are no wings waiting in their stillness,
only walls.
They will never know
the touch of petals beneath them,
the surprise of another voice
offering something they never thought to ask.

They remain in shades of gray,
content to never be surprised.

While the world sings in colors,
they refuse to see;
and strangers they fear
become friends they never meet.

The cost of comfort is the life unlived