The Moth
The moon shines brightly on my wooden porch,
as shadows dance from trees swayed by the breeze.
Alone, I sit beneath the glowing torch-
shaped light, relaxed, and feeling much at ease.
Above, an open window on the right
and wind-swept curtains catch my eye, and so
a flicker came in view so near the light.
Alone, a moth is drawn inside the glow.
I wondered why a moth is drawn to flame.
Why does the mystery of light attract
the need to endlessly pursue the game
of fluttered wings that seem to interact,
like overwhelming magnets to light’s beam,
into a world of some eternity?
It seems to sense a mystery unseen
beyond the brilliant rays that it can see.
I turned to view the moon up in the sky,
a peaceful light to which I’m lured to know
what mysteries exist beyond my eye.
Alone, my soul is drawn inside the glow.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
