In the Name of the Moth

The dry flapping sound of tiny wings

Signaled the arrival of the moths

They circled in the air

Waiting for the spell of the past to take hold

Before alighting on their many disciples

Those countless supine figures

The participants of the most sacred rite

Remained utterly still

While their clothes were chewed away

Overhead, the moon hovered like a

Vast glowing lamp

In the name of the moth (Bird of prey, bird of prey)

In imitation of a bird of prey

A ritual mask

The anti-light

Descended from on high

It persisted through (The)

Countless waves of (Anti-light)

Duration and (The)

Layers of (Anti-light)

(Descended from on high)

It persisted

Through countless waves of

Duration and

Layers of stuttering clouds

Growing more powerful

As it approached

In its wake followed

The all-encompassing

Blindness of an oil spill