a dusty enclave possessed
would not we all go blind
if surrounded by the dark?

clinging to light most
when we need it the least
to fly behind is to unsee

trapped by thoughts
so physical in nature
we beat ourselves into walls
over and over again

the desire to transform
feels unnatural by nature
pupa to imago
fear of innocent to ugly

until our eyes adjust
are we not just moths
in shadows
chasing the light
of tomorrow?

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