Moths

We do not kill

That which was our right

To take a life

But we abstained


However insignificant

A death should not be meted

Without just cause

Or the cause of conquest


Brutal species

Such short life of peril

To shorten further what is

A curse wrapped as a gift


Fools in foolish endeavors

To strike at immortality

In the ethereal sands of time

Nothing will matter when it returns to dust


Create your legend

All that it is in time

Is worth less than your waste

Killing the other to kill oneself


Making amends

Is a sin to history

To have capitulated

Is to be decapitated


The dissolution of the self

Is the purist of dissolution

Nothing more will follow

But the deaths of those yet living

2 Comments

Your poetry always stops me in my tracks- giving me the pause between stimulus and reactivity- so I can weigh and consider actions and consequences- and respond rather than react.
Thank you Toney.

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