reduce the minutia and move to the future
tune into to truth and tune out of the rumors
neuter the tumors that give birth to intruders
refuse to be abused by maneuvers of rulers

we need to rise and strike up the fires
the time has arrived to slide with the vipers
biting like spiders with wiser desires
driving our fangs into the spines of the liars

I try to catch my words like fireflies
and store them in a jar.
I cannot.
Whenever I lift the lid to speak again,
the jar talks to me...
And off they fly.

In the silence,
inspired thoughts
make pleas for their own release.
Within moments
they are captured by another,
no longer mine.

Anything but silence is futile
when it comes to liberating
the true meaning of my fireflies.