I stroke these flames,
And pat my tail,
Tapping the dust away.
I whisper to these dead flames,
And look above,
Begging for the relieve by day.
No longer do I glow in Night,
It was sudden, this cold,
And the darkness in here scares me,
The flutter of my wings echo in hollowed oak,
Making me jump,
Making me wish to rip them from this back,
If only I could reach; stretch further,
But ah! I cannot.
But as my heart took another leap,
And I saw shadows on my wooden walls,
I looked to the skies with watering eyes,
As seven billon lights floated in the night,
And the world was lit,
As if it were day.
A smile appeared to my lampyridae lips,
I was barely conscious of the wind leading me away,
I was humming a beautiful melody of my forefathers,
A song sung with the restoration of hope,
The world can light itself during dark!
They are finally here,
People! Man! **** sapiens!
And the world has lit the dark for them,
The sun is warm;
The wind is sweet, for them.
And though sad, we are happy to no longer be needed,
We love this world, but others await, dormant, eager to be lit.
So we disappear this day,
Hardly noticing the return of bioluminescence,
Etching in our memories,
Seven billion stars and the Moon's beautiful crescence.

                      Love and Light
                            from firefly

How lonely would you be,
Sitting on the only rock,
Above water in a lake?
Can you cry,
If I were to die,
Drowned beneath these waves?
Listen to the flying shadow,
He cries, he screams, he travels with ******,
Foreshadowing awaited end, floating up,
Out of the water,
I can no longer touch the border,
Of water and earth,
And the transparent evidence of my life,
No longer does it irritate me,
No longer does it sparkle in this underwater sunshine.
How happy would you be,
If I were to rise?
How happy would you be,
If I appeared alive?
                             -from firefly

It took him awhile,
To decide to dance,
He was always the first,
To roar, to prance,
Nevermind his sweaty palms,
As he pushed off the wall,
As he bowed,
Before her cotton dress in a graceful fall,
His hand hung for eternal seconds,
As she decided; looked around,
But, ah! Lo! His eyes, they beckon,
And as the entire room gawked,
At the bold, beautiful ****,
As he bowed before an ugly, pimpled nobody,
As if she were a queen; the most beautiful in this here, his flock,
And as the ugly, pimpled nobody,
Dared to consider, to frown, to appear unsure,
Of this, what was sure to be pure allure,
Finally, she ended his wait,
With hesitant nods, the innocent wide-eyed child,
He smiled beautifully, leading with a mesmerising gait,
They alone swept the floor,
She was surprised at this happiness,
And he was relieved of disappeared nervousness,
For he thought himself lucky,
To dance with one such as she,
The people they can stare,
He don't mind it, he don't care.

I'm still quietly rotting away,
I hope no one notices,
I hope no one prays.
This old soul requires no pity,
Ancient soul of no regret.
Dying mind, but still thoughts of fluidity.
I see the flakes, flying visible every sunset,
My skin is tearing away,
My heart fails too,
I hear less throbs each day.
Grateful am I, of the absence of tears,
The absence of fears.
I can willingly walk 'till the end of the light,
I can walk happily to the dark at the end of this tunnel,
Thankful, that I am not that old I'd have to crawl.
I feel, on this day, my last,
As if I was sixteen again, spending my first night right here, under the wooden bench,
'Lo how quickly 16 becomes 60,
How quickly does 60 become 0?
I know there is no one I've left behind,
No sentimental article of comfort; of value,
Except, perhaps,
The cold, wooden bench at the south side of the park,
Or that beautiful bluebird that sings from his fountain,
Or perhaps,
The stinging, black spots I see when I look at the sun,
Or the feel of warm earth under my fingernails,
Perhaps I'll miss it all,
And imagine I'm back at the park,
When I'd truly be emflammed; burning,
Or perhaps, hopefully,
I'd just be moving from one park to the next,
One life to the next,
Nothing between, but death,
A small, trifle thing,
The largest of fears that is to be overcome,
If I am to be rewarded,
If I am to finally be at peace, true peace,
If I am to belong,
Anywhere, but this park.
                                             -firefly

How very lonely HP is,
In the middle of the night,
Reading long ago poems by friends,
Tapping little red hearts,
Only time I'm available,
After dusk; hours before dawn,
Reposting poems, my fingers just as assailable as Moby ****,
Or Hansel's and Gretel's witch,
I stare at blank, gray suns,
Wishes I, I had some to use,
To uplift; to free,
All the beautiful poetry,
Even the ones with coquetry,
I rapidly kiss plusses with my right thumb,
Adding to worthy collections,
Of addictive confections,
'Till 2,
When alas I sip hot coco,
Scratch my ****,
And fall asleep beside my cat; momo.

Billy's hand lay on his hips,
Little honey swaying,
Twirling his string of pearls, puckering his lips,
Winking for blue jeans on James Dean,
Stomping in his neon green pumps,
Giggling, jiggling his belly lumps,
Chelsea Hotel #2 playing ov'r Old Gran's radio,
Over the rain outside.
Little honey swaying,
All drssed up,
Sweetly, innocently, wonderfully distracted,
From careful; from fear.
Billy was alone, and this is what happens,
Except for this one time, Daddy came home,
Afflicted by *****,
Saw Billy and screamed,
Squeezed his very bones,
Dragged him down the stairs,
His missing strap he mourned,
Knuckles rejoice; curses slurred.
Billy was ****** and crumpled in a corner,
Daddy passed out over the hall toilet,
*** staining his pants,
When momma came home.
She saw her boy, her little ***** baby and screamed,
Mother ran outside,
Rain adorning her skin,
As her mind facing every sin.
Billy could no longer cry,
He now wanders as another,
All but his true self, his heart is dry.
It hurts, it tears, it bleeds,
Once was enough,
Was all it took.
Masks! Liars! Liars! Fools.....

He travels in scarlet,
A scarlet shirt for all the fears.
He would go around and smile at all of you,
He may shake your hand,
And hope the tremors beneath his skin are hidden from your dry palms.
For even though he looks you in the eye,
He is afraid, always, since whenever,
Frightened, petrified, secretly exuding panic.
But this little boy, the one in red,
Was brave enough to face all of you,
For touching you may mend,
That part inside his mind that chokes,
At every bit of human contact,
Ever since that first night of contamination,
When red had become bad on his sheets,
When a candle was lit, slowly,
And he was made to watch as it burns,
And feel, and see, and scream,
But as the flame, over the years, slowly fade,
Another creeping memory,
Edges long since frayed,
A battle raged inside him,
And he told me,
"I will fight,
For tommorow and hope,
For the sunrise and heat,
But of all things,
I will fight for that smile you'll give,
When you see me cured,
I will fight for that hug,
And all our nights."
I have our hope,
And I will wait and watch,
As he touches you and grin.

Mine eyes look upon the heavens with tears,
The sunlight soothes the large ravines on my back,
And the delicious winds does not sting.
I have been eclipsed,
My feathered wings viciously ripped away,
At the height of pleasures; the end of the ride.
A long fall followed, with many changes of the sky,
Flames surrounded me and open air, then the embrace of Earth,
Where I am to be eclipsed in the dance of moonlight,
And find onyx wings;eclipsed wings,
So I may run through the golden wheat fields at the end of dusk each day,
Picking up speed, I will go faster and faster,
And finally I'll fly.
Fly again, and find joy after misery and sacrifice,
After I spend each day in agonizing anticipation,
Of the freedom of flight.
I will never return after I've felt such things,
I will walk this earth, for eternity, free,
I will love and try not to hate,
Laugh, and only cry for joy,
I will not be oppressed, depressed, nor impressed,
By cruelty, and hurt, and pain.
I will be forever and always free,
Always and forever an eclipse.

Perhaps Grief’s stiff grip around my neck,
the one that robbed my throat of air and asphyxiated me,
is still coercing Mother Nature to make my walk a constant downpour.
This is always a possibility.
But what if said hold is one by one loosening its fingers, the blood gradually circulating back into its whitened knuckles?
I, too, feel recirculated, renewed, revolved,
like the sun’s final leg on her ellipsoidal path.
The colour has returned to flush my cheeks,
the radiance to frolic in my eyes
instead of being veiled by dark shadows,
because my heart has found a new light.
And it is that light, that candle’s bitty flame, that will not be extinguished
by the winds of confusion,
of muddled and undefined feelings,
of heartache.
No; this lantern follows closely behind me,
lighting the forest trail and inviting the sun to pierce through the treetops,
to illuminate the world with it.
It will not yield in guarding me,
overseeing my journey from rear attacks
and keeping my spirit warm.
Furthermore, I feel as though this light should maneuver alongside me rather than behind,
for we are equal,
we are one.
It is this light I find myself slowly clinging to
instead of the falsely beautiful mask Grief teased my heart with.
Yes; it is this new glow that I prepare to capture in a jar,
much like a firefly whose glow never fizzles out;
like a light-bulb with no expiration,
as I let it guide every direction I follow,
every footstep, one after the other.
Every breath I inhale.
Every breath I exhale,
without blowing out the flame.

She caught my dreams
with a net like
a broken winged firefly.

She stored it in
the mason jar
of her heart.