Drawn to Flame

When two sticks are rubbed together, are flames destined to erupt?
It's a wonder that the trees aren't burnt, and piled as ashes on the ground,
or pillars of fire reaching up into the sky with ragged burning fingernails,
waving their beacon leaves in invisible winds and blocking out the stars.

If that's what trees were like,
the satellite lenses would be blinded with both the light of civilizations and nature,
and flame would battle fluorescence for the eyes and attentions of all on earth.

Moths would no longer flock to the lamps and lanterns lining homes and streets,
instead, they would learn from the blackened wings of their fellows, or be wiped out completely by their curiosity.

We are forever acting as moths to a flame,
reeled in by the vines and temptations in the minefield of our minds.
Destroyed by our ignorance of the obvious dangers ahead.