Delicate moths light up the darkest of night, but dwell in the darkness in order to notice the light.
A wing'd flame rests below her cheek
''a relationship fed with curiosity and spiced with danger.''
The softest touch from the murmurs of nature.
The rhythms and the moans, felt from the outer, felt from within, feed each other
''a shifting web of meanings that we felt on our skin.''
Nature is a beauty of sound and sight.
Resting in the darkness, resting in the night.
Darkness feeds light.
Darkness feeds light.
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