Incessant Creature - March 8 2022

 

Incessant Creature

March 8 2022

Like a moth to the flame.

It's flight is erratic,

wings flashing light and dark

as it tacks right, then left,

flitting through the air

to confuse predators.

Evasive action,

yet all the same

heading straight for death.

The sound is unexpectedly loud,

the repeated collision

of its airy body with the impervious bulb,

the frantic beating of wings

against the glass.

Time and again

battering itself,

irresistibly drawn

toward hypnotic light.

The sound of warm summer nights

gathered outside

in the sultry air.

Moths

who aspire to the moon and stars

exhausting themselves

for no apparent purpose

down here on earth.

The exterior fixtures are a mess

because why bother?

The empty husks

of long-gone insects

baked by sun.

The remains of cobwebs

dried-out hard.

And the dead bodies

of sacrificial moths,

littering the bottom

where they dropped unnoticed.

A final flutter of gossamer wings

before this incessant creature

at last finds rest.

I was listening to one of my favourite podcasts, The Moth. It's story-telling: true stories, to a live audience, without notes. The ancient and very human art. And perhaps what make us who we are, because while other animals appear to live only (or mostly) in the present, stories speak to an awareness of not only the past, but potential futures as well. The name was inspired by sitting around outside on warm summer nights, telling stories under the porch lights accompanied by the sound of moths beating their wings. Coincidentally, I'd just seen a Nova episode about butterflies and moths, and the explanation for their erratic flight came to mind: which was all I needed to begin riffing, after which stream of consciousness took me the rest of the way.