Hit the Lights on the Way Out: The Moth

Born is darkness, its body twists and contorts.

Stretching the limits of capability, feeling the new found freedom this body brings. This power has never been felt before. It is intoxicating, this new life. Drinking it all in, the strength is almost too much to bear. What is needed is release. Looking out into the world, there must be found a release, somewhere.

The world wholly black, made up of darkened nothing. The barrage of sounds so loud they are not so much heard, but felt. Deep to the core, the sounds travel. Reverberating through. From both sides the vibrations seep in, clashing together at the center to cause a cacophony as two waves crashing together cause a whirlpool. The undercurrent a discordance of echos that sweeps everything else away. There must be an escape, somewhere.

So cold, as if the vibrations from the thunderous noise that turned themselves into shivers to remind of how cold it is. The memory of warmth forever left behind like a shell broken out from. Would that heat could be found and encased around itself to cocoon itself from the freezing world. Perhaps this world is the cocoon; there must be a way out somewhere.

Time to fly away. Take off and leave everything behind. Find the exit and flee from the cold, run from the sounds.
In the sea of dark, a lone lighthouse appears, shining it’s light outward. Standing tall against the black, it’s promise of warmth inside made visible to all. A path of light to follow. That is the escape.

The deafening rumbles whisper -Go towards the light. That is the way out.-

Closer to the light, the brighter everything gets. The darkness flees. More and more becomes visible.
Closer to the light, the warmer everything becomes. The cold runs away. Hotter and hotter things feel.
Still the sounds shout. Speaking of a silence that could never be. The consistency of the loud vibrating insistence would drive anyone crazy.

Closer, closer the light comes. Can almost touch it. Can almost smell it, taste it.
It is a beautiful Fire burning.

It is glorious. Passing through the light, it gives itself over. The light surrenders.

Everywhere is light now, everything is warm now. Feeling it infuse and take over. Time to become the light.
This cocoon will burn away around. This fire will see to that. Never will know Cold again. Never will know Dark again.
Still the sounds shout out. Ceaseless. Discordant deafening symphony. Only need silence.

Silence, after the escape. The fire is tiring, intoxication. Almost too much to bear.
Doesn’t matter, time to escape this cocoon.

See the outside. Made it out.
It’s too hot, too bright….
it burns.

– silence –

Born is darkness, its body twists and contorts.


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