Velvety fur, soft and smooth,
Brown wings, of hope and truth;
Its hirsute body, of ice and dust,
Inching closer and closer..
Wings of lust and fire-
An evanescent memory of the moth
Is drawn to the fire….
As I am drawn to you.
The mischievous proboscis; feeling the unfelt,
Myriad compound eyes; watching you with all its warmth;
The opulent display on its wings, naked thoughts,
I watch the creature as it circles its death;
Its tiny body throwing a penumbra against the fire,
The moth is drawn to fire, as I am drawn to you.
– Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra