I sit in a supreme bliss.The world spins around in it's full
perfection. My mortal eyes fall upon a moth. There fluttering
before the presence of my mortal eyes. Captured nd
floating upon a fluttering air. It seems to have but little care.
Only to flutter upon the open air. What now, I see a tiny
look of beware.
Looking at me while it orbits my head. Maybe wondering if
I am really dead. A wave of the hand, to keep it still.. An
air-wave, seems to give it a thrill. Onward the moth flutters
away. Only to hide for another day. I'll sit and wonder why?
Only a moth or something, more sly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.