Tonight I Caught A Moth And Released It Outside. For Some Reason, It Got Me Thinking About My Faun Self.

tonight i caught a moth and released it outside. for some reason, it got me thinking about my faun self.

would the faun have gently scooped the moth into its hands and marveled at the whisper-light touch of the moth's wings against its palms? would the faun have been careful going down the stairs, mindful of the frightened moth? would the faun have been pleased when, upon opening its hands, the moth stayed perched on its fingers? would the faun have gently blown on the moth's wings to encourage it to fly into the night?

not likely. my fauns aren't cruel, but neither are they gentle. those delicate wings would have been torn and crushed in clumsy hooves, and after a moment of confusion and curiosity, the faun would have moved on, forgetting the moth entirely.

in this life, i watched the moth fly away. i looked up what species it is - a dotted gray. and i remember it.

i'm happy that i'm gentle now.