Everyone eventually becomes one, A Moth

I wish to be
A Moth.
My rigid ribs, tomorrow
Shall become ornamental
Wings. My broken teeth,
Will melt into spiral lips. Everyone

Eventually becomes
One, a Moth.
It can't be reasoned, nor
Bargained, nor
Comprehended, nor
Prevented. Why is it I

Want to transform? To
Shed and only fly? To
Live an eternal, moonless
Night? And to
Scare people off, pale
As a Moth? It matters

Not. Now, inside my wooden
Chrysallis, I morph into
A Ghost.
Finally, I leave
Behind all. Body,
Mind, space

And time.

+Translations

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