Am I a moth in the flame?

Or flame in a moth?

Or both?

The same,

A form and a name,

A game,

As the moth,

I am burning with bliss,

Can’t wait this eon of mothship to sink,

In the blink of cosmic eye,

Can’t be truly a moth,

Or even a semi awakened flame,

As the flame,

It’s merely a speck,

Now it was,

Now it’s not,

And yet :

To the dream which is neither moth,

Nor the flame,

A mysterious dame,

The song seems blissful.

It’s a great mystery.

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