Hearing the second static sound, I turned
And saw the insects’ blue light on the wall
Like a huge nest of babies stacking tall—
Asleep, against their permanent blue bed.
Why did these bugs succumb to being burned,
Did they not see their kind that went before?
These foolish creatures know not they can soar,
Desiring only bodies to be warmed.

But aren’t we just like headless, mindless things?
We toy with death because it’s not enough
To know, we need to feel what darkness brings
As it frees us from our conscious cuffs.
We claim to think but sink into the night
Innately unconscious of our blue light.

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