Alone and drowning with curiosity
The little moth played around the fire
Warm and bright, the moth felt gay and free
But too close it got
And a little closer
So dangerously close
The warmth turned to heat
Bright it was and blinding
Still welcoming
But slowly killing the unwary thing.
The moth felt it
The scorching pain
But its nosiness won
Against all intuition to bail.
It was the first time the moth felt happy
For such a moment
To have quenched its thirst
To have followed the sweet beat of curiosity
And the fire
Danced joyously as the moth
Deceived, unsuspecting
Flapped its wings one last time.

But lucky it was to have survived
So close to tragedy
Face to face with reality
The price paid for innocence
The price almost life
The price more than life
The little moth
Now stripped its former identity
Wounded and destroyed
So close from the past that the feelings still linger
Yet so far from it now.