A Poem about Moths

And I can’t help but wonder,
How the moth flies so close to the sun,
Then I remember that it’s not the sun the moth sees
It’s the illusion of the sun.
And I can’t help but wonder.
Am I the disillusioned moth, and is he my sun?
If so then am I Icarus?
Destined to kiss the sun, only to have him melt my wings.
And I can’t help but wonder,
How far will I fall, and still be able to get back up.
And I can’t help but wonder
How
The moth sees the sun, where most only see a porch light.

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