The Moth

The Moth

Goes near it

To seek some light

In its world of darkness

To seek some respite

In its desolate life

To seek some warmth

In its search for love,

Care and belongingness…

The Moth goes near it

Hoping to find

Some acceptance

Some reciprocation

Of its burning desire

For that source of light

But try as he might

He fails, he fails

And he miserably fails…

Every time he goes to it

He comes back

With less of warmth

And a lot less care…

Burns and Scalds

On its bruised body

Because of the Light

That hardly cares

To share its luminance

To shower its radiance

On this hapless victim

Of its crude ignorance…

And yet the Moth

Madly in love

Dedicated to its light

That source of “delight”

Which it hopes

Would be for him

One day –

And pine for him

As he does for her…

He would win over it,

Come what may…

Goes seeking her

Night after night

And every night

He returns back

Burned and scalded

As ever before…

So with all these scalds

And scars of burns

Which he accepts

As the kind

Give-aways

Of his beloved light,

Tired yet devoted

With wings so torn

He can hardly fly…

He still makes

One last attempt

To appease his Beloved -

That luminous light

On one last night.

And he burns and burns

And he so badly burns

His body in ashes…

All over his Beloved’s

Flame of Light.

And in that moment

Of despair and death

Not just the night

Mourns this grave loss

Of love and longing…

The candle-light

Burning bright

For all these nights

Realises the depth

Of the Moth’s

Eternal love for her…

And in a sense of shock

Gives up itself

To the world of

Darkness and Death.

So now the burnt-out,

Withered Wick

Remains the stoic witness

To tell this tragic tale

Of the Moth and the Light

How they met every night

Yet there was no love

Lost nor gained,

Neither realised

Nor reciprocated.

And yet when they couldn’t

Unite in life…

Death found a way out

Heralding their sacred union

In the after-life.

Amen !