As the sun slowly gets to the other part of the world, leaving us in the dark, some very tiny, little creatures come alive and they fly in search of light. This is so paradoxical, to wait for the night and then to search for the light, or is it metaphorical?
Maybe it is always this that is happening, we search for things that are missing. We search and search and find alternatives.
At night these beautiful, designed creatures come inside; they say that it brings bad news and bad luck while some believe they are angels from heaven with good messages. But for me they are nature’s wonders. Good or evil, they bring the intricate crafting sense of an unknown creator---an artist.
I sit here, silence
like shimmering flame of truth
the moth searching light
I took photos of these insects, watching them every night to remember these alien days when I was searching for the meaning in all the changes around the world, the arrogance and ingratitude.
delicate wings
carrying off the weight(lessness)
light, a distant mark
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