Luna

Once there was a girl, who needed to escape.

So she ran away...to the forest...of course.

Where she pitched her tent, and sat by the fire, and listened to the sounds of the river rapids in the distance, and the wood thrush singing its resonating song into the night.

And while she listened to the wind  passing through oak and hickory branches, and to the rushing waters and the songs of birds, she thought about her life, which seemed marred by a constant sense of loneliness, and a feeling of not belonging anywhere, to anyone.

And she sighed and breathed the clear air, and shed many silent tears.

Finally, it was time to rest, but sleep was elusive, and her tiny lantern continued to light the walls of her small tent far into the night.

A sound.

Furtive, soft, but with a sense of frenetic energy.  What could be rustling against the nylon fabric of the tent?

At first she felt panicked by a thought of a possible intruder into her chosen sanctuary, a place where another's presence could mean danger or harm.

Surprisingly, the sound did not change.  It grew neither louder nor softer. There where no other sounds, no footsteps, animal or human.

Finally, her heart calming almost to its original tempo, she ventured outside.

A moth.  Pale green in the moonlight.  Large, ethereal, almost alien.  Attracted to the light, it had beat itself almost to death trying to pass through the wall of the tent to the light inside. Why, she wondered, would it do such a thing?  What would make it, even after feeling the pain of shredded wings, continue on its destructive path?

Why, indeed.  She knew the moth.  It would live such a short time in its winged form.  A week, ten day, but no more.  It hadn't even a mouth to feed itself.  Such a short time to fly and find a mate, and to soar.

Instead, it chose the wrong path.  A waste of precious, precious time.  Attracted by the source of the unknown light, it chose self-destruction over blessed freedom and flight. 

A sudden chill passed over the girl as she recognized her own actions in those of the moth.  Such beauty in the world, such a simple act it was to live in freedom, such a short time to LIVE.  Too precious to spend an instant beating herself up about her mistakes, or worse, repeating them.

So.

She sighed, and breathed the clear life-giving air of the forest, and shed no more tears that night.