I was wondering about butterflies and if they ever regretted that, if they ever even thought of their past as caterpillars. And, if the caterpillar ever thinks of its future up there as that exquisite creature in the air. We'll be metamorphosing somewhere onto another level some day. Some other kind or frequency of existence if that's our promised end. We'll have to live out whatever our destiny is. And nobody can know what the future'll bring in this world or even the next one.