Once on a dreary day in winter
of boredom, misery well-kept
a shard of fate began its splinter
when in each other's lives were swept:
the surly hunter, rose from flame
(entire psyche built on shame)
and the living moth, vibrance and flashes
(who dreams one day to turn to ashes).
And though they'll hurt each other well
the harm comes not from lack of caring
for apathy is sometimes sparing.
In failing that, attend their knell
and know that it already rung
from the very moment this begun
. . . g.