The Moth

Like a raptured moth,
Lost in temptation
I am lured towards the glow
Only to erupt,
Into a burst of flames and smoke
I know nothing of that flame
For it is a hidden truth of which I cannot speak
Yet, it never fails to seduce me,
Into its tantalizing radiance
I hover relentlessly in the aura of the fire
And feel my essence burning with lust
I want to make love to the flames
And feel its heat dip and soar inside me,
Like a frenzied dance
My wings turn crimson with heat
But I am numbed by the ardent wooing of the light
I am lost in a blur of timorous desire
For I do not know what it is I seek
I have perished like this
Many times before
In different lifetimes
Yet, I continue to be inveigled,
Into this cycle of self-destruction
I cannot control myself
For I am weak – weak for pulchritude
That brightness, that beauty!
Oh, how he shall drag me back,
And plunge me in despair!
But I hear the fire speak to me,
His powerful voice filled with seduction:
“You are mine, dear moth
For not all creature’s self is admitted here,
You belong to me, dear moth
For all identity must disappear”
I suddenly rupture into flames
My wings catch fire, but I feel no pain
My body lights up like a torch,
Instantly bursting into smoke
The ashes of me,
Disappear in the zephyr
I am no more . . .

© October, 2011

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