Moths Are Guided By The Light Poem by Mark Heathcote

Moths are guided by the light
In a lonesome kamikaze flight
Banging their heads, asking
Why didn't I land with aplomb?
Why do I keep on crashing?
Why was I so headstrong?
Haven't I learnt to trust?
Why am I so blind?
Surely I can be disinclined-
To crash and readjust.
Surely I can side-step ruin
Surely I can evade disaster
Surely I can avoid catastrophe
And falling to my knees...
Surely I can elude calamity
But now I'm not so sure.
Like a moth, I keep on banging my head against the ceiling.
I told myself I'm not afraid to live
Whatever you do just-don't-stop
Whatever you do-don't-just bob and weave
Whatever you do-don't-loose again
At some point, you've got to get smart
At some point, you've got to win
And even-if-by chance
And even-if-its by chance
And even-if-by chance, find a pot of gold.
And say even when you grow old
You could never be told.
The world is too beautiful to turn away.
The world is too beautiful to run away.
Kamikaze, I know there's a path to a pot of gold
Don't-get-in my way.
Oh, now it's mine.