Whatever it is that attracts a moth to burning flame
is seen by me as a mysterious sacrificial love game.
The moth is just an insect and that flame is of fire
and so gets consumed in the heat of all its desire.
_______

The fire bloomed and rose.
It rose far above the people.
The person who kindled it's light.

I watched.
I watched as the fire rose higher.
I watched as it consumed.
I watched as it consumed everything in it's path.

The people burned.
The plant life burned.
The paths burned.

Everything was on fire.
Everything was there.

Now everything is not.

There is black.
There is only black.
Smoke curls up.
Smoke fills my nostrils.

I turn.
Everything gone.
Everything gone because of the fire I created.
My fire.

I see a person.
They come.
They comfort.

They point.
They point to the black.
There is a different colour.

Green.

The person whispers.
Whispers before they disappear.

"My Darling.
My sweet darling.
Life grows stronger.
Stronger from the ashes of failure."

Everything comes crashing down
and all I hear are the waves consuming me.

Disobedience is consumable, piece by piece.