The Moth Spiralling

Now the trees glaze green
Letting go of the spleen
(the closers to the light, the more clear things seem, illumination)

One of the many possible endings
– the one I burn
Will my wings melt?
Will the wax wane? (l o l)

Sinking (too passive) in darkness I choose /// albo: ...again
Farther on
Farther on….

/// albo: let go of the fear / fly, my dear / farther on...

Icarus ???


On the path to redemption
Finding yourself on the way to destruction
How to trust the light
When you’re gliding in the darkness
Of own jungle of senses