The
Moth
Pale,
withering and frail
the
moth moves about the darkness without purpose
not
a moment is given to this annoyance of the night
the
moth rarely looks closely at its wing
it
cannot bear what it lacks in itself
it
has lost its interest in all other things
a
flicker of light flashes in the distance
in
that instant a subtle hue falls upon her wing
curiously
drawn to its source
an
inspiration of direction overcomes her confused flight
the
moth accepts that the Light is good
she
can feel the strength in her wing
the
moth embraces the brilliance of her colors
she
examines herself with humble admiration
her
Beauty, Strength, and Greatness
undetected
in the Darkness
the
Light of her true self beams
the
moth had always been a Butterfly
- Sara Mayon del
Rosario
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