TO THOSE WHO DIDN'T SURVIVE.

The Twilight had vanished.

Darkness had crept in

Day had been banished

and night had set in.

The lights had gone on

the house was cheerful and bright.

The nocturnal insects had come out

attracted by the lights

to forage and feast

on each others life.

The Lizard who lived

on the wall of my room

where the flourescent light

was mounted so bright

knew it was dinner time.

It smacked its lips

in anticipation of the food so fine

to be served by a gourmet called God.

The first to land on it’s table,

the very wall on which it lived,

were the starters

small insect appetizers,

with a life cycle of a mere day.

While the Lizard did wonder

in anticipation

Of what would be served

for the main course that night.

The wise Moth was all agog.

The magical pull of the incadescent light

was making her head sing

in anticipation

and senses swing

in expectation

of bathing in

that glow of light

and dancing near it so bright.

The Moth was also aware

of the superlative fact

that she was attractive

for nothing can exceed

the gorgeous attire

that nature had lavished

on her little miracle, the Moths.

It is often said that Moths

have been given to man

as a lesson in humility

that even the most insignificant

of creatures such as a Moth

is robed in such simple

but sophisticated attire.

The Moth was a vegetarian

and had planned to forage

on nectar and leaves of plants

outside in the garden

after dancing on the floor

to her heart’s content

under the light from the tube light.

The Moth was unaware

of the danger that lurked

near the flourescent light

in the form of the lizard.

The Moth landed on the wall

and then gently circled the light

as it eyed the dance hall

Not many insects about;

mused the Moth

who preferred not to have a ball

or let herself go wild,

on the crowded dance wall.

The moment the Moth

landed on the wall,

the Lizard knew that

its dinner had arrived.

It waited patiently

lurking in an area

where it remained invisible

to the Moth that had started

to boogie and shake her booty.

As the Moth whirled faster and faster,

it was entranced by its own dance

and kept whirling closer

to the shining circle of light.

At the correct moment,

the lizard forked out its tongue,

to gently snap up the Moth

and take it into its mouth,

where the fluttering Moth was kept locked

bv the firm jaws of the Lizard

until it finally stopped moving

and breathed its last.

Sitting with pen and blank paper,

I was the lone witness

to the last moments of the Moth.

I had really been enjoying

and appreciating its dance

and learning a few steps

from the manoeuvres of the Moth,

while all of a sudden

as a bolt from the blue,

the dance ended abruptly,

as in mid-air it seemed; so casually

while the Moth took his final curtain call

locked in the jaws of the Lizard.

The incident left me shuddering

with goose pimples,

as I tried to come to terms

with the reality that the dance had ended.

The incident moved me to the core

and made me realize once more,

the transient nature of life.

Here this moment, gone the next,

seemed to be the way of life

and history has no examples to share

about any poor mortal

who may have won over death.

Even the greatest Master,

Yogi or magician or Saint

will one day certainly

have to die so mortally

This thought further  did

lead me to ponder

on the Darwinian way of life.

Survival of the fittest

and the evolution of the species

may all sure be fine

but who gives a thought

about the ones that didn’t survive?

This poem is therefore dedicated to,

”THOSE WHO DIDN'T SURVIVE".