Scorch,screech,hiss and hiss again
There goes the fire, rekindling its pain
Yet every moment a spark, brilliant-so-ever
A seductive invitation to come and get slain..

The light that doth become its notion of supreme beauty
Woo-ing it so strongly,making it forget its duty….
Pure,dazzling,inspiring – the fountain of its bliss
But why so full of strife if bathed in all sanctity ?

Happily it flies forward,blinded in the shimmer
Burnt,scorched, wings about to wither
Yet so at peace with itself, so full of its dreams
So oblivious of the reality awaiting thither…..

And for a moment it does stop, when truth does scream
When it finds reality pinching round the clock
But it only takes the light just another gleam
And there its flies again,dreaming of its ‘sun’ once more…

Dear God,why must it be so blinded? or so enchanted and fooled?
Becoming the object of all laughter and  great pity ?
For ‘it’ is the moth, and I can’t help but empathize
To be hurt by what it loves the most – that is its destiny.

A randomly jotted outcome of  some very vetti vague philosophical musings merged with a retrospection of reality.  Try as I might, I can’t stop my thoughts and writings from being  hijacked by the moth. Sigh.