Desire glides in on calico wings, a breath of a moth seeking a companionable light,
where it hovers, unsure, sullen, shy or demure, in the margins of night,
a soft blur.
With a frantic dry rattle of alien wings, it rises and thrums one long breathless staccato
and flutters and drifts on in dark aimless flight.
And yet it returns to the flame, its delight, as long as it burns.
There's a longer version of "Fascination with Light" that adds the following stanza:
And still it returns on incessant wingsβ ruthless grey monarch of the night air. It flutters and stares with huge primitive eyes, and it sees beyond ruinous nights to all the loveliness inherent there; and it sings all the hideous despair of its unworthiness, in a frenzy of wings; and its desolate womb holds incurled in silk the husks of dread kings and pale lovers.