The Moth

I have been approached with the inquisitional thought: “What manner of beast do you think for yourself?” Naive in fantastic, ignorant optimism, I have often replied an eagle an owl a raven a canary all with the image of wings blissfully occupying my intentions: the image of unchained grace: opened arms embracing every gust of euphoric chances Exposed, naked, and raped of innocence, dreams, and hope, I am a witness to the sodomy brought by observations, interactions, expectations, and the most deadly, reason And so with a violated, but revealed and enlightened mind, I say not just of me, but of humanity: The Moth Observe these simple, yet beautiful creatures in a common scenario One light illuminated One light dormant in darkness The space “contaminated” by the darkness attracts little following no approachment The brightened air hypnotizes, entices these poor creatures to it. Many of these hearts see and feel the light, but stay put Always wanting Die wanting Some encircle the source, earnestly flying to their goal only to be blocked, hurt, frustrated, and perhaps enraged They insanely in an almost masochistic setting repeat their efforts, becoming battered, exhausted, and mad with obsession Most waste their lives never passing the barrier Once in awhile a persistent character breaks through! The goal reached, the dream accomplished, Happiness Incarnate! . . . . . . . . . . . . . ENTERS THE FLAMES ENGULFED IN THEIR HOPES AND OBSESSIONS, THE FIRES OF THEIR PASSION THEY BURN! and eventually fade The moth and I: Are we so different?