It was only today I noticed,
That around my home
A moth hopelessly circled round.

It was nothing extraordinary,
Most certainly not the first either.
Yet its pale and ghostly hovering,
Left me dark and pensive.

Its almost lethargic flapping,
Seeking only a place of darkness,
As in its mind, a safety was only found there.
And a wardrobe could not be an option.

For the wardrobe, the ghastly thing,
Only gave an illusion of comfort.
And all that is in there,
Is its predecessor's remains.

And so, I simply watched,
Knowing its fate,
As its tireless flight
Slowly withered away.

Yet it kept flying in circles
Flying around the entire house,
From room to room
And nook to cranny
Exploring every possible place for some rest.

As its flying became desperate,
Hopelessly looking again and again,
I wondered if it ever questioned,
What it was doing in the first place.

Why was the darkness so necessary for it?
It seemed to be fine in the light,
Yet it was restless,
Looking for it in a room full of brightness.

Did it not see the darkness outside the window?
Did it realise it could not go through it?
Had it already tried that?
These questions thoughtlessly floated in my brain.

I don't know how long I sat there thinking,
But eventually,
I observed that the moth was nowhere to be seen.
I do not know whether it is alive or dead.

I wonder if it ever realised that
It had no escape unless we opened a window for it.

– Maya Desdemona