But maybe these moths spend all their time fluttering against the wind always searching for something. And maybe they don't know what it is. But for some reason, they see that flame, in all it's heat and glory, and are pulled in. Do they think they can tame it? Or at least pass through it unchanged? Regardless of their feeble thoughts and assumptions, they are not strong enough to survive the burning embrace of the flame. But neither are they strong enough to live without it.
Maybe they look at the world around them and find it bleak in it's void of answers, though the moths have battered it with questions. Time after time, in all sorts of places. They think it can't possibly compare to the heat of the fire. Would they rather give over their life to that burning, consuming power than live a fleeting life outside of it, never knowing what it would have been like? Maybe this all sounds rather suicidal or reckless to you, and it is a scary. Terribly horrifying in fact.
But if there's no fire in your life, are you even really living?
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