No brave solider from Greece or Rome

ever so dutifully entered their final home.

No pilgrimage of martyr or holy saint

was made with such solemnity from a soul less taint.

Then that of a moth on his calamitous rise

to his flickering, bright blue site of demise.

The moth understands.

If only every man could face Hell’s fiery plight

with only the promise of an instant in light