The Scene

The scene, it lights the stage anew.
Applause ascends velvet from view.
The stage appears, coalesced in night.
A beam, as moth confused in flight,
sets pale. Its wings, still spread, unveil.
A hint unfolds as to its tale.
The light consumes the moth beneath.
A spell, unfurled, its charm bequeathed.
Applause denotes its span of life.
The darkness falls as though by knife.
The stage sets bare with hopeful breath,
and waits for dusk, the stages’ requite.
Return pale moth, again alight.
Once more, sad tale, reborn, takes flight.