Eyes open to view
the fleeting image of bliss
at the tip of a moth's wing
as it flutters ever so softly
into the flame that burns

Hands reach into the early
morning mist to feel
its cool transience
before it's lost to
the heat of day
transformed into the
moth's tear as it flutters into

Ears listen to the subtle
tympanic tone
of a universal vibration
and sense the momentary
variation in pitch as the moth
moves into perfection

Mind imagines a realm
of purity, coalesced into
forms shrouded within
the universal womb
only to be consumed by
the flame that burns