The Old One
In the land of the moths, there is the legend of the Old One. It tells that one night, when the then very young moth was flying about with his friends, he happened to look up and saw a wondrous white light hanging between the branches of a tree. It was in fact the moon, but as all moths are so preoccupied with the candles, street lamps, and other lights that they are constantly circling, our hero and his friends had never seen it before.
With this sight came a sudden and firm resolution: our moth would never again settle for flying around anything else but the moon.. And so every night, when the moths would venture out from their resting places and each head for a suitable light, our moth headed upwards towards the heavens.
But the moon, although it seemed always so near, remained always beyond his finite capacity for flight. He never, however, allowed his frustrations to overcome him, and in fact his efforts, though unsuccessful in making him into a lunar astronaut, yielded him one unexpected dividend.
For while his friends and family, his neighbors and co-citizens of moth-land all reviled and ridiculed him, they all preceded him to the grave in the fiery incinerating death of their kind, burned to a crisp in one of those accessible flames they had set as their goal.
The Old One died peacefully at a very ripe age, beneath the cool white shine of his Beloved.