Not A Sonnet: Of Moths And Metaphors

It is the one thing we have in common:
that we breathe the world’s air, then we do not.
To write one line about something so trite
is a waste of paper. The rain forest
will bless me when I do not trouble you
with such banality. So I shall spend
my days sparing you the grief of reading
my shallow thoughts about mortality.

If I wield a pen, it will be to sign
my name while I remember it. Today
is a good day to live and not to wring
all meaning from the sunrise, all beauty
from the moon. The stars are distant candles,
but I resist all metaphors of moths.