Meddlesome Moth: A Tale of Sacred Longing and the Flame of Truth

In the still of the night, when the moon softly gleams,
In the heart of the forest, where shadows hold dreams,
There lived a humble moth, with wings frail and bright,
Drawn by the sacred flame, the beacon of Light.

O wise ones, gather, hear this tale I shall sing,
Of the moth and the flame, and the wisdom it brings.
In the forest of old, where the ancients reside,
In temples of stone, where the truths do abide.

There dwelled the great elders, in silence and peace,
Yet their hearts had grown heavy, their wisdom’s release.
For in their long years, they had drifted away,
From the Light that once guided them, bright as the day.

In the depth of their chambers, they sat on their thrones,
Their minds filled with echoes of prestige and stones.
They had built their high walls, and adorned them with pride,
But the Light they once sought had been pushed far aside.

But lo, from the darkness, there fluttered a soul,
A moth with a spirit that none could control.
With wings of ambition, it danced through the night,
Drawn ever closer to that radiant Light.

“O flame,” cried the moth, “I seek but your grace,
To bask in your glory, to behold your face.”
The elders, in wonder, watched this daring flight,
For none had disturbed their comfort so bright.

“O child of the night,” spoke the sages so wise,
“Beware of the flame, for it blinds with its guise.
To seek it is peril, for the fire consumes,
And those who pursue it may meet with their dooms.”

But the moth, undeterred, in its quest pressed on,
For the Light was a call, like the rise of the dawn.
It flitted and danced, in the circle of fire,
Its heart full of longing, its soul full of desire.

The elders, in silence, pondered this sight,
For the moth’s bold pursuit filled their hearts with Light.
They remembered their youth, when they too had sought,
The flame of all knowledge, with the fervor they’d brought.

But time had betrayed them, and prestige had grown,
Their hearts turned to stone, where the Light once had shone.
They forgot that their purpose was not just the throne,
But to seek the true wisdom, where the Light is shown.

“O flame, O flame,” the moth sang aloud,
“To touch but a spark, I would be so proud.
For the Light is my calling, the source of all truth,
I shall brave your warmth, with the fervor of youth.”

In this dance of the night, where the moth bravely flew,
The elders saw wisdom, in the old and the new.
For the moth’s daring flight stirred their hearts from their rest,
And they knew that the seeking was life’s truest test.

“In the shadows of silence, the Truth is revealed,”
The elders then murmured, their wisdom unsealed.
“For we have forgotten the Light that we sought,
And in pride’s cold embrace, our hearts had been caught.”

But the moth, in its flight, ventured close to the fire,
And felt the hot breath of its burning desire.
It knew then the truth, that the Light could consume,
Yet without it, the world would lie shrouded in gloom.

So the moth, though it trembled, did not flee the flame,
For the Light was its calling, its purpose, its name.
And the elders, in shame, bowed their heads to this sight,
For the moth’s bold endeavor revealed their lost Light.

O wise ones, take heed, from this tale of the night,
For the moth is the seeker, and the flame is the Light.
And the elders, though wise, must remember the call,
That the dance of the seeker gives life to us all.

In the forest of thought, where old truths are kept,
Let the moth’s restless wings stir the wisdom that’s slept.
For the path to the flame, though it burns with great heat,
Is the journey of life, where all souls shall meet.

Thus ends the tale of the moth and the flame,
Of the seeker who ventured, who knew not of shame.
In the heart of the night, where the mysteries lie,
The moth found its truth, in the Light of the sky.