The Moth and the Flame

The Moth and the Flame

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Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

Where shadows dance and embers dream,

A lonely flame, with whispers bright,

Flickered gold and bright in dead of night.

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A fire-witch, with heart untamed,

Her hair like sparks, her touch unnamed,

She sighed into the hollow air—

A song of heat, a silent prayer.

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Then came a moth of fairy kin,

With velvet wings like twilight’s skin,

His eyes like stars, his flight so light,

He circled near her glow that night.

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"O burning one, so fierce, so fair,"

He murmured through the smoky air,

"What magic draws me to your light?

I fear your kiss, yet crave your sight."

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The flame did sway, her voice a spark,

"O winged one, why court the dark?

My touch is death, my love is pain—

Yet still you dance, again, again."

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"For love is not for those who fear,"

The moth replied, now drawing near,

"And I would rather burn with thee,

Than live without thy melody."

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She laughed—a crackle, wild and sweet,

"Then come, and taste the fire’s heat."

He spread his wings, without a care,

And let the blaze embrace him there.

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But lo! The witch, with sudden fright,

Saw not his end, but love alight—

With magic old, she dimmed her blaze,

And cooled her heart in his sweet gaze.

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No ash remained, no mournful cry—

For flame had learned she need not die.

And moth, though drawn to heat so bright,

Had found a love that spared his flight.

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Now hand in hand, they weave their tale—

The witch who burns, the moth so pale.

For love, when true, defies the old,

And softest touch outshines the bold.

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So if you see a fire’s glow,

And moth-wings dance where embers flow,

Know this: the fiercest hearts can bend,

When flame finds love, and moth finds friend.

From the Archives of : The Lost Books – "Libri Perditi"

Where forgotten tales are kept alight.