Moth'er of all lusts

                                                     One Last Flight

Light, even the artificial one can attract thousands of moths hovering all over it. Sometimes, it seems that moths want nothing else except to spend their lifetime obsessed with the solitary, insignificant bulb. Thousands of them would die if you switch off that single bulb. Perhaps they are heartbroken, or dorsal tube broken if you consider their lack of a heart. In any case, moths line up the streets in what seems to be a post apocalypse scene.

Several others I’m sure would hover incessantly towards the sky, hurtling themselves against every opposition to reach the sun. In a desperate attempt to reach the un-achievable, these tiny insects spend their lifetimes. Some of the lucky ones get to be burned alive in the fires or insect killing lamps. For the rest, it’s a long drawn, exhaustive death of incessant flapping and then some more flapping.

So, what is the logic behind their fatalistic society? Their tiny brains cannot separate the two different kinds of lights present. The real light that eventually guides them and helps them to complete their lifecycle and the artificial one, which eventually burns them out and results in a massacre every time the bulb is switched off.

With our greater mental capacity, we have the overview of the game going on in the midst of the moths. We can see its futile attempts and the suicidal ones too. I wish someone could whisper in their ears, the buzzing sound which would awaken them from their stupidity.

On second thoughts, why bother. Perhaps we too are, at this very moment in a kind of suicidal mission, hurtling towards the artificial aims that have gripped us powerfully. We spend lifetimes chasing after trendy goods, bigger flats, faster cars… perhaps to sit alone in the end with the accumulated waste of a lifetime, and no one to cherish it with. Obviously even we cannot discriminate the real ones from the fake ones.

The glitter and chicanery involved with money does attract thousands of people towards its ephermal shine. A hope of eternal happiness keeps them in the orbit, incessantly flapping their last bits away into the bottomless void into which they must eventually sink before the glorious sunshine would expose their lives or rather the futility of it.

Many religions believe in resurrection and the day of reckoning. For the moths, every new day is the day of reckoning. The moths which can resist the tempting fires, glittering L.E.Ds and the multifarious bright lights of market eventually do get to see the sun, the glorious father of all bulbs, the real light and the only one which would see them through. For the rest, their short lives are spent in the pursuit of fluorescent lights is ended with the deep sigh of regret as they see the sun rising and the last drops of their life blood ebb away.

Perhaps the moths too know about the truth of their fruitless strivation. But then, if we can’t resist the well lit advertisement boards can they?