Farewell

All our days are numbered, even more so the moth. In his few precious hours of life, he is born, grows wings, dances in the sky and dies. Such is the way of life and nature. And yet, sadly, the moth knows not his own significance or effect. He would blindly fly into an open flame were he loved most dearly by another. But such is the idiocy of the world, from which all hope to find an exit.
Good-bye, fair world! N'er shall we meet again.