I had a conversation with a moth.
"Why are you so intrigued by the firelight?" I asked.
"It's beautiful."
"But as soon as you reach it you will be engulfed by the flame."
"Perhaps."
"It'll be the end of you," I protested.
"It's beauty is my desire. I can grasp it and possibly die or let it go and live a much longer existence."
He paused and then said, "I choose the light."
He flew into the flame and disappeared. I thought to myself about what he said. I figured there is no way I could live like that. My life will probably be twice as long and less exciting. But I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have that kind of passion about something.
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