The Moth

I am the end of a beginning, the expendable beauty of passion

I am what's left when faith took the path of changing, a circle of life, a chance of rebirth through damnation

Like the phoenix, the flame drives me insane, its silent call is maddening

Thus I have no mouth, for the dead tell no more tales, these pages had turned to ashes

But what of my dreams, the desire to create something for me? 

What of my pain, each day of struggle, crawling to reach the mountain?

I am the wings of the final stage, a passing story, the end of a beginning