Woolf Too

Woolf too

I had no idea of the doom …
Even Woolf, oncoming …

For days, the long-long, many days
If not weeks, if not months
Helpless moths

These small, tiny thieves
Drove me crazy.

What are they?
What they want?
What they think?
What life is in meaning?

I was kind
Fed them well, and with care
Also love

Suddenly things went bad
“They must go” was confirmed.
“How? ” Became a question.
“Do not feed; vacuum.”

Then I watched, flew some
Crawled the, caterpillars.

“What is death to this life…”
Suddenly sucked inside.

Main concern: “How will I? ”
Will I be vacuumed?
In cockpit and waiting?
Or long life and old age?

But now she
The woman whom I love
(Also hate)
Has shown me new way.
For the moth, life and death.

by Nassy Fesharaki

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