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Isabel May 2019
She sits
Atop a myrtle bush
Wingless
She cannot fly
But sends out her desire
Her future dreams
Through the unsuspecting air
Her belief
In distant generations
Borne upon the breeze
Hope of the unseen
Messaged across the barren lands
And am I powerless?
This is inspired by a moth we came across in the Scottish Highlands whilst working with Trees for Life (look them up!). The female is wingless but sends out pheromones to bring the winged males to her to breed. It was also inspired by the Extinction Rebellion/ climate change protests which were happening at the same time, so dedicated to the marvellous Greta Thunberg.
CautiousRain Apr 2019
Emptiness
echoes but does not return
the same lifeless message.
Only the stillness of the room reflects
such dreary gasps for color
and that still desire of the moth
longing to surpass its dull greys
for the wings of a fluttering butterfly
in its glory days.
this is from 3 yrs ago AND I NEVER POSTED IT HERE?
I thought I did
but nope, just on theprose.com only
I'm a fool, but here
Madison Greene Mar 2019
there are some people whom you simply cannot pull the darkness out of
you can love and love and love and they will empty you and ask why you have nothing more to give
because sometimes moths are drawn to your light
and sometimes it is better to protect yourself than try to save people
no amount of nourishment can help someone who doesn't want to bloom
there is a fine line between friendship and toxicity
I hope you learn to draw it
Mel Williams Mar 2019
In silence, I pray with a reference never before known to me.
It is soft and fragile,
tentative, like a child,
small, like a grasshopper.
It floats from one ray of light to another,
with a loud whoosh that does not ask for pardon for its sound.
It speaks in a tight whisper,
throat raspy from lack of use,
or maybe too many cigarettes.
It flips onto that same cloud it floated on earlier,
moth wings flapping like some incandescent bug
lit up by the electricity of a bug-zapper.

Fear does not silence it.

--It rings its glamorous wings without entropy--

And so I offer a call into that wide madness of space.

It does not answer.

       I did not expect it to.

And that is okay.
cleann98 Feb 2019
have you once
thought about
whether or not
moths ever feel
afraid
of getting burned
by the light
they always
and forever
long to chase?

don't you think
they stop
for even a second
to deliberate
about it?

or maybe
to them
and their short life
it was worth it?

hey,
did you consider
that maybe
it's why the have
such short lifespans?

perhaps in the lenses of
miniscule eyes
of ephemeral dismal colors
in this infinite world
the warmth
of flames
are all they live for?

i don't know...
maybe that's why
we humans live longer?

we,
or at least some of us
have the mind enough
to say that
"this is the
"closest"
"i'll ever be'
"to the sun"

before we all turn into ashes.
hey icarus, if you had the chance to conquer the skies knowing you might melt your wings forever, would you even try to soar?
Pyrrha Feb 2019
I think asking for a soulmate is too much
Perhaps I should seek instead a kindred spirit
I'll find one along my journey across the sea
A fellow traveler, wanderer, foreigner
Someone else who sees the beauty in the little things
Who finds their passions in what others deem to be lesser
They will be like a sunflower in a rose bush;
A willow tree in a forest of redwoods

My moth amongst butterflies
Brandon Conway Feb 2019
Engines turned off as I free fall
and watch
drifting in this star's gravity
the ships
bathe in the ocean of life
and then
one continues toward the flame
a moth
heats up and dissipates
another lost to madness
So it goes
She had a love in her heart
And never let it go
Even when it led her astray
And every night, she lay alone and pondered
Asking questions to the midnight sky, and receiving moonbeams for answers.
Her nightgown fluttered in the dark room like the wings of a butterfly or moth
Her eyes gleamed in the night, like moonbeams of Heavenly design
Her hair is strands of silver silk woven by a goddesses loom
Her face as pale as the face of the moon
Her feet are bare and she treads with an airy float
And she dances
A magnificent flowing whirl
Entrancing all those who see her, a Heavenly girl,
The woman in the moon
The inquirer of the gods
And her wings flutter softly in the spotlight the moon's rays have created for her
And she flutters back home.

The people below watch the iridescent butterfly take flight, and they think to themselves "What a lovely night it is!"
Shea Feb 2019
I could run away or stay
Living like a moth to a flame.
I always try to chase the light,
But the light has burned out.
And these days I'm stuck in old ways,
So where a light used to be
Is where I sit patiently
In the dark
Hoping for a flickering flame.
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