Perhaps not love – at least akin,
this shatterbelt of sheets and limbs.
Our hearts break for the smallest things,

but if we're just two burning bees
in a forest full of cardboard trees,
I wish for drought, dry leaves, a breeze.

Little firebugs
Rise like dandelions,
And float like feathers
Into this nightly silence.

Tell me,
how did we forget to see
the beautifull things?
Such as the firebugs
on a warm july evening?
When did we last run
among the bushes to hunt them,
while they sleep on the calm grass
that rests from the light night breeze?
When did you last caught one for me?
When did we last stop
to smell the red tulips,
that we place every spring on the table,
in a vase
They slowly turn to the window,
stealing light from the sun
Since when have we stopped
next to them
to watch their waking in the morning
and falling asleep at night
Tell me
Tell me,
when did we last
lay under the trees in the yard
Among the grass
To watch the clouds,
as they travel across the blue skies
over the day,
or the stars at night,
As they stand peacefully on the
black cloth,spread across the sky
Quietly,like soldiers that watch the land,
in the absense of the Sun.
Like guards that watch upon us,
while the night passes
Since when did you not gave me a star?

And the firebugs rest upon the
quiet grass every summer
Still.
The tulips stand upon the table every spring
and they hug eachother,
in the small vase,
like hidden lovers that curve gently
around eachother,
fearing that someone might separate them.
The clouds travel still
across the blue sky,every day
The stars lay still every night on the cloth
spread across the night-sky and watch over us
The stars peacefully guard us,every night.
And we still pass next to eachother,
silently like trains,
through the coridors and labyrinths
that we built for us,
and we didn't even know that we could.
And yet,we never remembered
to build a small station to stop in
and lay our burden to rest.
You and I,
we still look at the clock on the wall
every day,countlessly
and yet,we never notice
the time passing by.
We sharpen our pencils,
and the pieces of paper stand blank
in the drawers
Constantly...
We empty the ashtrays,filled with butts
and we don't even count how many times
did we kiss them,
instead of eachother.
The coffee is always cold
on the table.
From waiting.
From silence.
That is why I ask of you
When did we forget to see
the small things?
The important things....the days of our lives
that count.

Magick beat on the wings of a butterfly pollinating gardens
every kiss upon a flower's face left a glowing blush
dew was being basted on the blades of grass,
bees were supping of their morning tea and honey
just before the dawn of the age of man
when purple gold imbued the land

For centuries the fairy princess whose friends carved every snowflake by hand,
picked up and painted all the leaves that fell from trees
to place them back on branches so they may fall again
who were the glimmer of light in cool lakes in summer
and who scented the wind with fresh sweetness
to see people smile when they remembered...
all the life in the forests
the fairy princess and all the life in the forests
for centuries were innocent

The humans frolicked through nature naked and pure
with simple pleasures in the paradise they never asked for
firebugs kept them warm and the lightning bugs made them safe
they were joyously harmonious; one with the fae in their prancing
until on unfortunate day, a child cupped the princess in her hands
capturing the fairy during a game of chase, The Day the Forest Stopped Dancing

Awakened as if from a trance people began to build homes from the trees
make tools and take game for feasts, robed in furs
while the little girl heard the princess' pleas
in exchange for release, the fairy would grant any wish of hers
the people built a settlement, smoke from their fires overtook the scented breeze
the child brought the fairy to them, knowing she'd have to grant wishes for all the curs

In the center of town there was a stump, which soon became a cage for the princess
as she was forced to hold audience, her magick left the forest in excess
it flowed into their civilization, stone buildings, horse-drawn buggies and silk
they were nomadic and naked one day, the next herding cattle and churning milk  
in weeks the advancements were industrial, coal, steel and steam
the fairy rarely slept, sometimes granting wishes she heard in a dream
her cage was elaborate, glass, pistons, iron, steel, the works, it encompassed the stump that was its foundation
allowed little air and no privacy, her wings became weak without the freedom to fly
guards all day and all night could hear her cry

Without her magick the forest fell into disarray
idyllic no more, the animals fled from hunters and the insects were subservient to their routines, they forgot to play
generations passed, long removed from the child who caught the princess in her very hands
before the fairy was no more than a butterfly encased in resin, dug up in strange lands.