A Drifter Seeking Refuge

I was a moth, a drifter, seeking refuge in the scorching blaze. Destiny's jaws dug deep into my hands each canine like a nail hammered into my palms clasping onto my flesh before tugging me away from the frivolousness of frantically frolicking from flame to flame to gulp flickering feral sparks to quench my thirst Jet-black drops of wax drip down cascades of stained glass as a Gregorian choir made up of a thousand icy sopranos, begin belting in unison and rattle my tabernacle into place. Lo! I am now a waxen candle, immolating myself every lash of the whip mercifully imprinting my wrinkled skin before I set myself ablaze in the afterglow born of an invisible spark