Clear Sight

 Our desires make us moths.
No matter how large or small,
it is still a flame,
and when we attain it,
we are annihilated in the blaze.

Whether your desire is realized
or unattained,
both become traps,
or walls of your maze.

I play defense as the moth dives headfirst toward the candle on my desk,
How many times have I done the same, and was swatted away,
unexplainably, narrowly,
escaping death?

We forget:
That what is real
and what is true,
are not necessarily together-glued.

For many unreal things are true,
and many real things are false.

The desire for certainty,
hell even clarity,
can end up being the bars to the prison of your very being.

For when we are wanting,
or when we are afraid,
or when we are hating,
or playing petty games,
it is impossible to see clearly.
And each action only complexifies and elongates the entanglement.