The Moth and the Flame

In the night's silence and shadowed arbor, The candle flickers with its gentle dominance,

It dances to the rhythm of its own light, Bathing the room in it's warm and cozy sight.

Then comes the moth, with fluttering wings, Drawn to the candle's flame, it chants and sings,

A dance of love, and a passion's desire, As it circles the light through the raging fire.

The flame waltzes with authority around the moth, It draws it near, with its warmth and cloth,

But the closer it comes, the greater the heat, Until the moth's wings are no longer fleet.

The candle burns on, in spite of its will, As the moth's wings begin to lag and frill,

In the flickering light, a beauty so pure, A life given up ultimately for love's allure.

"There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it, don't you?" — Rumi

For love of the flame, can be all-consuming, And the passion it brings can be ill fuming.

But in its fiery blaze, we must not lose sight, Of the dangers that lurk in the flickering light.

For sometimes, love can burn too brightly, And the path it leads us is very unsightly.

So like the moth, we must learn to discern, When it's time to leave briefly and when to return.

The candle burns on, with its tender glow, And in its shine, we will come to know.

That sometimes, love can be a guiding illumination, Thus we must first learn to comprehend its inspiration.

So let the candle and the moth be a lesson, Of the dangers that lurk in love's expression.

𓂀 𝔼ℕ𝔻 𓂀

September 2005, London, Richmond High School: 3rd Draft

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