Being a moth
Being a moth does not make you less of a butterfly.
You still float in the air like a feather detached from the wings of the bird.
The flapping of the delicate wings still remains the same.
The undying love for the nectar might be replaced by the flames of the candle but the devotions remains the same.
Just like the butterfly strives for the life flying around flowers a moth strives for death flying around the flames.
But aren't death and life counterparts, both of them makes you feel alive like you are living for one last time.
One last dive in the flame, on last kiss of the flower.
You wanna drink all the life that's left in life.
You don't think about the consequences. How does a butterfly knows that the nectar isn't the poison. How does a moth knows that the fire will burn him to ashes.
Well there's only one way to find, no other way around.You have to live to know if you'll die and hence you serve your purpose.
The death is an offering to life and the life an offering to death.
Can you not die like this.
Offering your life for nothing.
Can the candle stop burning itself.
Well does the wind knows what it's blowing for?
Yet it blows and with it sways the life itself.
Can it stop blowing?
The wind exists to blow, to merge in the vacuum and destroy it.
Just like that life exists to stop existing, to merge in the death and destroy it.
To say that being a moth is easy wouldn't be right at all.
Then why does one chooses to be a moth and not the butterfly?
Why does one chooses death over life?
Maybe we don't have a choice. . .