The Luring Light

This poem found its first spark in a conversation with my friend,

Mina Howell

. It’s funny how those everyday exchanges can linger and inspire. I won’t say more, as I’d love for you to experience the poem and its meaning for yourself. Enjoy.

A moth I am, with paper wings,
Ignoring shadowed, ghostly things.
No compass guides my fickle flight,
Save for the lure of distant light.

A sudden gleam, a vibrant spark,
It calls me from the velvet dark.
Towards the glow, I’m pulled with speed,
A shining promise, my sole creed.

But then, another, further still,
A brighter beacon, a new thrill.
My first pursuit, now dim and wan,
Is left behind, its glitter gone.

So on I chase, from gleam to gleam,
Lost in a captivating dream.
No grand design, no purpose known,
Just by the brightest bauble thrown.

But what reward does light bestow?
A fleeting warmth, a fading glow?
Or is this chase a futile game,
Exchanging darkness for a flame?

The shadows whisper, “Peace lies here,
No blinding glare, no burning fear.”
Is there more wisdom in the night?
To shun the blaze, find truer sight?

For every flicker I embrace,
A silent warning, I must face.
If I draw near, too bold, too fast,
Will this bright passion be my last?

And so I flutter, torn and frayed,
To where the brightest light is played,
Yet question, with a heavy sigh,
If in that brilliance, I might die.