one day the chameleon escaped.

they were all caught in the endless monsoon
and he looked at all the other chameleons
and did not recognize a single one.

in the strobed moments of electric lightning flashes
who had they become?
succumbing to the tyranny of their own fate:

for what good was it to pass for a lion or a nightingale if you could never hear the sound of your own voice?
and what good was it to pass for an eel or a mink if you could never feel the texture of your own skin?
and what good was it to pass for panther or a swan if you could never know your true color?
even the transparent jellyfish knew how to recognize himself.

but what of me? asked the chameleon to himself.
what color should i be if i have a spectrum of pigmentation?
where should i go if i only melt into every background?
and how should i find myself if i am better at disguise than any other?

“Hide!” another chameleon yelled as the thunder drowned him out.

he watched his friends slither and swim and gallop away in fear,
and declared, I will not be a slave of this senseless season!
I refuse to hide anymore.

and upon renouncing his birthright he promptly crawled into a cocoon
not knowing what he would be when he emerged
but certain that whatever it was…
he would fear it no more.