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To the Flame

To the Flame


Have you ever noticed how much most living creatures cannot stand it? Plunge the common man into darkness, and he will squirm uncomfortably.

He will search for the light.

I see six moths.

If you shut these bugs in a darkened box, they will each search for the light in their own strength.

Even the smallest pinprick of a glow, the moths will fight tooth and wing to be first to reach it. When light is presented into the darkness, they will each desire to reach the light at all costs.

But in the next instant, the box is shut tight and the light is once more plunged into darkness.

The light remains out of reach.

Why is it that moths are so eager to flock to the flame?

Do they sense warmth in it’s glow?

Do they merely wish to escape the darkness?

Or are they chasing some glory that only the moths themselves truly understand?

One does not understand the flight of the flame-chasing moth until one has been trapped in darkness themselves.

In that instant, one becomes a moth, chasing the flame at all costs.

The dark box of Invasion has been opened for six moths to hunt the light. The promise of a briefcase hovers before the moths like a flame, and they flock to it .

Violent men, eager to tear each other from tooth to wing in order to grasp that light. Men who have proven themselves on the field of battle, spilled blood and enjoyed the process.

But what the foolish moth never considers is what occurs when one finally reaches the flame.

The light is not what you think.

The flame burns.

The moth latches onto the light, and it zaps the life out of the foolish bug. Five moths hover about that light, the bug zapper. The closer they get, the more pain they must endure.

And it brings them no freedom, only folly.

To truly be free, one must go against the grain.

Embrace the darkness. Let it invade you.

I am the sixth moth, that which ignores the light entirely. Content to flutter in a different direction to the foolish many. I seek not the light that burns, but the true prize at the end of this tale.

For light is merely illusion that fools pathetic little moths and keeps them away from the truth. For in the box, in the darkness lies what the moths truly seek.


The icing on the cake that lies within the dark box.

The hungry moths fly to their demise, all except that which is willing to embrace the box itself and ask themselves what purpose it truly serves.

I cannot be distracted by the illusion of light.

My senses are focused on reality.

The feeling of the steel under my fingertips, the clasp and the handle. I will find that briefcase…

And not get burned in the process.

Flutter, little moths.

Seek that flame, and I will seek the truth.

The prize lies before us, but you’ll never see it in the light.