The cocoons in which we are wrapped from birth,
swathed and concealed,
swaddled and wreathed within abstract heirlooms,
are like wombs which protect, preserve, secure,
but eventually
contain, condition,
regulate, restrain,
constrain, restrict,
constrict,
strangulate,
then finally entomb
the revelation of possibility,
until they become a catacomb
of unpenetrated eggshells.
Abortions.

After the metamorphosis is complete there is the final step of breaking out of
the cocoon:
the acrophobic, after climbing, climbing the treacherous bamboo tower,
discovers the flexible twine lying across the slats of the top platform, ties it to
his feet, and secures the other end to the top of the tower.  He did not know
where the twine came from.  He was uncertain as to exactly how long the
length was.  Now he must close his eyes and jump backwards...

The agerophobic walks into the desert...

The claustrophobic locks himself  in a box...

The dancing, dangling marionette shears the strings...