more like moths than butterflies

Is happiness deliberate or contrived?

Questions presented remain ever unanswered, as I myself have no real grasp on the subjectivity of being.

The moment comes when she is asked to write and finds that her response is one determined not by her own mind but the will of others, and bills and mouths and minds to feed and other such timeless predicates.

She continues to write within the cocoon of self-discipline – or is that self doubt? –

as the deliberately happy continue to dance in the flickering light, avoiding dark places and playing make believe that our being is fed and satisfied only with light, more like moths than butterflies.