The Moth and the Candle

Huddled together, crushing for warmth
The group shivers and twists in anticipation
For a while no one speaks
Until one voice rings clear
‘It is the end, the end of all
And the beginning of nothing
Gather round and let us tell tales of the death of nations’

The fire dances and sheds sparks
As the speaker becomes more and more engrossed
And the audience cease to understand
Shadows cast by the flames
Create a play to accompany the words
Agitation increases, the penumbra story quickens
Climax is nearing

The speaker ends the story
The audience sit back, awed but unsatisfied
The rubble and ruins that surround them
Stretch for miles and miles
Across country and continent
Their presence is still not explained

Perhaps it is better left to generations to come
Maybe they can spin the story
So that the web becomes less tangled
They who have seen the earth move
Who have seen the end of romance
Cannot separate the two
Both the Death and the Dance

But for those by the fire
The curtain is already drawing
One by one they fall
Into the sleep that doesn’t end
For what reason they’ll never know
And no one will ever care
No more generations to come
And thus, without them, the song will not be sung