Why am I drawn to the light like a moth,
whether it’s from the moon or synthetic?
How long must a moth be fooled by light bulbs
before it can tell the real from the fake?
A misunderstood mouse flying on fingers
fares a whole lot better at nights than me,
despite being almost blind, it has its’ words,
high pitched, painting flawless the world around!
Unlike a cicada I have no ultrasound,
so I need a route unpolished by Eve, Adam
and their descendants, plotting for prosperity
or I’ll always be fooled by the lure of their lights!
But then, even if I could reach the moon I would have known,
the light that brought me there from earth had never been her own!