The Moth And The Lamp
Love is above any creation,
those that swims in this river knows,
that it breaks all the tradition,
even god in front of it bows.
Moth don’t detach itself,
from the light that lamp emits,
love where one surrenders self,
even when circumstances don’t permits.
To die in lover’s arms is only aim,
destroying one’s being without any reason,
one burn’s self another diminishes it’s flame,
an ideal pair in love’s season
this poem is written for The Mag