Flame and death of wasps

In the warm embrace of flickering flame, A creature finds itself enticed, A fragile wasp, unaware of the game, Dancing blindly upon melting ice. Entranced it was, by the glowing light, That lured it closer, without a clue, A mesmerizing allure, so bright, Leading this fragile life askew. With each beat of its paper-thin wings, It fluttered close, drawn by desire, Not knowing that disaster it brings, Its fate consumed by this burning fire. As if a siren's call, it flew near, Unaware of the danger at hand, Its fragile body, delicate, mere, Trapped in the web of this fiery brand. A life extinguished, not worth a dime, Yet its demise, a moment to mourn, A gentle reminder of fragile time, A lesson in how swiftly we're torn. A buzzing hymn silenced in the air, This wasp succumbs to the candle's might, A silent farewell whispered through despair, Its wings extinguished in final flight. The flame dances on, unabated, Unknowing of the tragedy it caused, While the wasp's fate may be ill-fated, Its story will live on, ever paused. For even in sacrifice, it brings pause, A lesson in the fragility of life, Though this wasp dies in burning candle's jaws, Its memory lingers amidst the strife.