A moth, in the darkness just a ghost
Invisible, a mystery
Yet attracting no one's attention.
A dull light from the dimness
Seems to have a magnetic force
The faint glow creeping into the dark,
An attraction to just one bug, then another, and another,
And then to the moth.
The warmth radiating from the glowing body illuminating the darkness,
Is fenced in by admirers
Simultaneously it feeds on the same oxygen,
As every other invisible creature, including the moth
Not worthy of examination, or even scrutiny
Yet they cannot help, but hope.
With each bat of its wings,
The force between the moth and the fire grows stronger
Now, just inches from the burning fingers dancing in the dark.
And at last, the moth is close enough to the fascination,
Near enough to be glorified by the light shed upon it.
Just then however, a finger of the flame reaches out,
And suffocates it.
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