Like Moths

One way to look at the human condition

Like Moths

Battered and bruised, the moth
flutters against the glass
Where a bright reflection beckons.

She searches every inch
Trying to get in, to a world
no different from the one
she wishes to escape.

Is life better, over there?
On the other side?
Or is it only state of mind?

Could we turn and find
(like the moth)
That what we wanted
was right here all the time?