Moth

Velvety fur so soft and smooth,

Brown wings of hope clinging to the truth;

It’s hirsute body glowing in the plethora of the fire,

The moth flies an inch closer;

Wings of fire, it still flies,

An evanescent memory of the moth lies…

The moth is drawn to fire as I am drawn to you.

The mischievous proboscis; feeling the unfelt,

Myriad compound eyes, watching you with all its warmth;

The opulent display on its wings symbolizes brazen thoughts,

I watch the creature as it circles its death;

Its tiny body throwing a penumbra against the fire,

The moth is drawn to fire as I am drawn to you.

The result of God’s grand design,

Flying to and fro between wishes and longings;

It lulls to its end, clinging by the edge-

Fire - both its friend and foe