The darkness around me is impermeable,
Gloomy, funereal.
It weighs down on me, and I imagine
Atlas holding up the sky,
The unbearable burden on his shoulders,
And I feel the same pain.
I struggle to breathe,
Each breath tears at my throat,
Rips its seams and sinews
Until I can barely speak.
My tattered wings flutter uselessly,
My muscles losing strength every moment,
My vigor being drained by the darkness surrounding me,
Until I can hardly stand.
Suddenly, a brilliant ray of light shines from
Somewhere in the darkness,
A beacon, directing me somewhere.
Warmth, hope, joy, peace, and relief flow out from
The light source in a everlasting stream.
A river of light, a torrent of happiness, that
Drags me out of my stupor, injecting new
Life into my veins, causing my wings to flitter with
Renewed aspirations.
I fly haltingly towards the light, drawn to it by
An almost supernatural force.
However, the closer I get, the harder it is to see myself;
My wings fade, becoming almost transparent, and
A piece of the dull ache returns, a remnant of the darkness.
The pain gets closer as I get closer to the light,
Closer to you.
You are my light, and I am your moth.
Everything good, everything true, you represent,
But I can’t touch you, can’t truly know you.
I can’t lose myself.
I can’t be your moth anymore.
Find yourself a butterfly.
