Despite
the obvious and plentiful differences between us, as humans, and essentially anything
else that is living, one element remains the same no matter the species—death. The
looming and inescapable nature of this presence prompted Virginia Woolf to
write “The Death of the Moth”, in which Woolf describes the “helplessness” of a
moth as it is dying as a representation for human life. Moths are “insignificant”
to us, considering their size and our distaste towards them. The moth, however,
does not think of itself as such. Going back to the idea that the moth
represents humans, we also do not think of ourselves as “insignificant” and, on
the flip side, I doubt the moth would want to be around us either since it
would likely be killed on sight. Anyways, the death of the “little creature”
was rather brutal and indiscriminate. It was almost as if death teased the moth
into thinking it that it would ever stand a chance when it finally managed in “righting
itself” although its body was shutting down. Was the last ditch effort worth
it?
Life
may seem “pathetic” in comparison to the might of death. There is a strength
and “marvelous” aspect to life, however, as the moth continued to fight for its
life and make the most of what little time it had left. It could have simply
submitted to its upcoming doom, but chose instead to resist the “power of such
magnitude”. We continue living our lives even if we know it will end at some
point, proving that the persistence of life is a worthy component for the
intensity of death.
