Like a Moth To a Flame

I fly close battling tendrils of seductively burning fire hoping I can get near enough to see what lies within what grows from that feeble string and creates a birth from drips of faintly glowing wax without getting singed My face is plastered to the back of a creature who lovingly courts danger flitting in and out and around that which draws on its adoration And transparent hands reach for me from outside the protective glow of this formidable candle And they try to take me from the pleasure I’ve discovered But they are obliterated by the light that shines your light that shines holding me safe while it tempts me into believing that if I join you I won’t fall.