at times I've been known to describe her as the luminescent beacon of light,
that I, the plain, mundane moth endlessly flap my wings and plunge into head first
over and over in some futile effort to merge with the light.
oh! what a sight!
A moth at flight,
showing blind might
trying in spite
to become one with the light.
There is some kind of power possessed by the unwavering light
who witnesses the continuous flight
night after night
of the moth endlessly attempting to
coalesce with the motionless
light.
