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.
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