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Abstract

t quarters, between skirts and shoes and robes and dresses, it finds its Universe expanded as the closet door opens, now that it is time to remove some clothes.And the moth (maybe bored of the flavor of aunt’s old blazer), decides to go out and explore the world.Then the bedroom is the world and the bulb the sun becomes. And the ceiling fan is spinning, its blades in slow motion turning, the rings of Saturn they are resembling.The moth is hungry for life. Its instinct guides it to the heat as its offered by the light.How many winters, in the dark it would have spent, stumbling between old clothes?Would it have ever dreamed of this electrical summer? Riding waves of light powered by the alternating electrical current of the light?And in orbiting the bulb, it gets in the tight spaces between the shade and the electric sun.Oh, so warm! Oh, so much light!<p id="a4af

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">But now the heat is very hot. And in its dizziness, the moth to the exit cannot go.Between hitting the bulb and hitting the shade, now its wings begin to burn.This artificial sun has dried its soul. To the bottom of the lamp to die, it has gone.There is no grave for the moth. Only dust will now surround its inert body.What seemed to give life at first, in the end, brought only death.Little moth, if you had only known!Outside the room, during the day, there is a sun that always shines.That gives life and it is warm even when it is covered by the clouds.Since it is so gentle, most of the time, it is enjoyed by most beings without them even noting that. And because it is so high, it is impossible to touch.© <a href="undefined">Pablo Pereyra</a> 2019 (Circa 2003)Thank you for reading.</article></body>

The Moth

A Poem — For S.G.S., whom I treated irresponsibly in love. Wherever you are in time or space, I’m forever thankful.

The Moth flies around the bulb. What lures it towards it?

Is it feeling attracted by the intensity of its heat or the iridescence its light emits?

The fact is, after a lifetime in the dark, the moth now wants to find the light.

Poor little moth! Locked up in a closet, it was!

And now, after a lifetime in tight quarters, between skirts and shoes and robes and dresses, it finds its Universe expanded as the closet door opens, now that it is time to remove some clothes.

And the moth (maybe bored of the flavor of aunt’s old blazer), decides to go out and explore the world.

Then the bedroom is the world and the bulb the sun becomes. And the ceiling fan is spinning, its blades in slow motion turning, the rings of Saturn they are resembling.

The moth is hungry for life. Its instinct guides it to the heat as its offered by the light.

How many winters, in the dark it would have spent, stumbling between old clothes?

Would it have ever dreamed of this electrical summer? Riding waves of light powered by the alternating electrical current of the light?

And in orbiting the bulb, it gets in the tight spaces between the shade and the electric sun.

Oh, so warm! Oh, so much light!

But now the heat is very hot. And in its dizziness, the moth to the exit cannot go.

Between hitting the bulb and hitting the shade, now its wings begin to burn.

This artificial sun has dried its soul. To the bottom of the lamp to die, it has gone.

There is no grave for the moth. Only dust will now surround its inert body.

What seemed to give life at first, in the end, brought only death.

Little moth, if you had only known!

Outside the room, during the day, there is a sun that always shines.

That gives life and it is warm even when it is covered by the clouds.

Since it is so gentle, most of the time, it is enjoyed by most beings without them even noting that. And because it is so high, it is impossible to touch.

Thank you for reading.