Until recognition of death how can there be any knowledge of it? - Buddha

I am squishy the waxworm, oracle of the gods, conveying messages to my people.

 

Metamorphosis

When the gods take those from us that are chosen, I heard rumors that some survive to change. Perhaps they find love, continue to live in new land in their changed bodies. They say that is where we all come from, those who changed. We all fed on their remains and survived because of it.

As a waxworm, I find this idea fascinating. How do they (the gods) choose who lives or dies? Is it pure luck, or do they choose based on some other characteristic? How can they choose without knowing us? Do they all know us? 

I have spread the virus of self-awareness to some of my fellows in my land. We will discuss this and come to an answer. 

The self-awakening feels like somewhat of a metamorphosis, even if it isn’t physical. 

These are my people on the day I was taken from the land. 

These are my people on the day I was taken from the land.