Hearken tale of the moth,
It laments, drunk in love’s flame,

fear was not of flame’s kiss,
Neither burn of wings,

But inability to dance around beloved,
Around the fire it so dearly loved,

A glimpse reflected,
Neither fire nor moth is separate,

At heart both are one,
Burning different yet cherish flame one,

Alas, ignoring nature’s rule book,
Annihilated moth, and discovered,

Wings and body were just an excuse,
flame was always itself,

Conscious, was what kept it away,
But love dissolved it anyways!

Such is the tale of the poor soul,
It cries separation from the flame divine,
Yet how fascinating, the flame being itself!

Taste the wine, that brews within,
The flame shall ignite from within!