We, so, hurry to the light, rush to it, fight for it, just to bask in all it's glory. Without, ourselves, realizing, the darkness in the path we have trodded. We are blind and deaf, and most of us unapologetic of our misactions.
But what of it, anyway, into the light, we will be cleanse. So long we be apathetic.
We won't be miserable about it. Instead, we would want it more. The desire for it grow stronger. Until finally, we fail to realize, we are not fireflies who carries light. We are but moths, aiming to burn ourselves.
It isn't salvation. No, it is repetence that we originally sought. If then, we would all have went farhter away to let the light grow; to let it have room, so everyone may.
