I am to him,
like a moth to a flame.
I fly heedless of the danger
to his brilliance, again and again.
My wings flutter faster and faster frantic
with my desire to touch him, even as my heart burns.
Like a moth outside a window,
I beat myself against the unseen barrier.
My body bruised and broken,
my spirit drives me on.
His fantastic light draws me closer still,
I taste bitter tears as my soul begins to burn.
I flutter helpless to the ground,
battered by my futile drive.
As life’s breath softly leaves me
I cannot help but gaze into the light.
Soft hands hold my soul
fluttering and exhausted.
My heart dreams
I am warm.
(Added May 2001) Peter died on April 16, 2001 after a significantly long struggle of body and spirit; Now he has peace, now HE is warm.