Light
The moth will rail against
the light,
beat wings to fracture glass
or extinguish flame;
life surrendered, uncomprehending,
and yet it loves the light.
The bat will fly against
the night,
serrated form cleaving scars
on lunar face;
beating a path, no understanding,
and yet it loves the night.
I have raged against
your light,
sallied words to wreak hurt,
to issue pain;
yet without reason, now I realise,
for, true, I love your light.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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