I am drawn to the moth
like it is drawn to flame.
And why?
How will I not be in love
with its love?
It kisses death like a lover.
On its belly with a mouthful of dirt
it dies first as a caterpillar
and after an unimaginable flight
it gives up its breast
for a single moment
with its beloved...
a moment
that you could measure
in the span of a single heartbeat.
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