Fireflies

Falling stars happen at night,
shooting across a hopeless sky,
lighting it with a brilliance,
that fills children's eyes with wonder.

Several travel towards me,
drawn by something I cannot see.
I look at them and I'm filled with desire.
I long for the feeling they bring.

Some come close and touch my hands,
filling them with light.
Their cool touch feels amazing
and fire runs through my veins.

Then, I see it.
One that is special and caught my eye.
I try to catch it with my right hand,
but it floats just beyond my reach.

Then, I notice.
That one already landed in my left.
I look at it and marvel at its beauty
and the future it can bring.

Oh what twisted webs we weave
with sewing thread and dental floss
that harden with time
and become unbreakable by mortal hands.

...and then you wonder
why I say what I do
but wait just a moment
and I will tell you.


You see, I can hold only one.


I want what my right hand has
but not what my left hand is trying to give me,
which is what my right hand once had
but what my left hand took from me.

So I have be careful
not to drop the starlight in my hands
that easily shatters into countless broken dreams
that fade from memory and turn to dust.

I've heard that noise before
so tragic, so piercing, so cold.
I never want to hear it again
but sometimes it seems that I have no choice.

So I sit and gaze into the night sky
and ponder on my predicament.
Of starlight and broken dreams
but I come to no conclusion.

These two are so similar.
So why do I want only the right?
I cannot say for sure,
but it's something that feels right.

I want to give the other back
but that is not my place.
It threatens to slip through my fingers
every time I try to return it.

So I sit and wonder,
staring at the sky.
Waiting for time to tell me
who, what, where, and why.