The moth of gold would only light upon one soul during its sweet life of grey, misty nights. It lived along the rails, steam and smoke percolated the days and the greyness would never end. Then one day the moth chanced upon a platform, high lamps glowed above and the moth's heart burst with desire to shine as bright. The wish burned so fully that slowly a gold light began to flicker in his breast. As he danced along lonely streak of stone, he came across a child, whose face glimmered in the lamplight. He saw in the child's eyes a peculiar, curious glitter and he loved it, and wanted to know it so completely he became enflamed with his own golden desire and he shone, like the purest drop of sunlight, hanging in the sky. The child reached out, fingertips delighting with the molten wings, and they sang to each other, as the grey turned to charcoal night.
