Spiritual

Wet cliff glistened by the moth-rain's cloth, 
Shimmers, with candle light's lonesome twinkle, 
To every those souls' to notice a reflection, 
Where concerned eyes do not procrastinate. 
Oh, whence the wind blew we have turned the cheek, sought the shelter. 
Alas, it is in the comfort where we have strayed the most... 
Moth, would you climb this moon haloed mountain? 
Ye Insects crowned baring free choice, choose thy flight: 
Either blessed or cursed in self searched entrapment, 
I plead with thee, question not for close answers, but for direction...