First, Unfurl

What I first wanted to warn you about had to wait until now. Before this, you were a spirit first unpublished into a body, and had no ears to heed my lesson. Now with the addition of a wing or two, the world will see you. Your colors will not save you; beautiful things often die. As for what death is, a lesson has not been writ to explain it, not even to me. One thing is certain, before we die, we must first unfurl. It hurts, indeed, but a phase of nature will not pass without the pain of growth and change. Change from existing into living, into caring, into loving, into hating, all of these are aches that bore deep into the soul. First, unfurl, it is the least of these stings, and one day, you will have known a life so full that this sting will snag onto your memory as a stretch, and you will stretch again and sigh, because the pain is no longer. I think it is this feeling that will surround you after it all, when there is no light to see or music to hear, and your soul will ache no longer, for there will only be the relief of unfurling your wings and taking flight for the first time, forever.