Little Firefly

There is a little firefly

That flies here and there and there and here

With a muted lamp on its little back

Shaded in layers of layers of gold


A tiny firefly flying there and here

Amongst embers sparking in the warm

Velvety cinnamon flavoured

Blackness coating the very back

Of the back

Of the back

Of my mind


A cinnamon flavoured embrace

Pulling my little firefly ever

So deep

As it circles, a little glow,

Happily, in the dark of the dark


And sometimes when I go

To the dark of the dark

When I lose myself

In the velvet

Of that deep deep recess

That gold mine in

My heart


The firefly finds me lying prostrate

And circles through my hair

So playful

Shining its muted, muted little lamp

In a soft glow upon

My lashes


And when my little firefly comes out to play


It hides itself in the palm of my hand

And when I walk back out of that deepest recess

It flies just by my eyes


And when I sit

And sit and write

And hold up my battered little pen

My firefly shines its glorious lamp on the words

I am to trace


And the pen moves

And my hands move

To the tune of the firefly dance

And there are letters and words

And works of art and power strewn in the wake

Of its wings


And my firefly dances on and on

Until it has had its fill

And then it gently opens the door

To the heart of the heart of the heart

And slips inside and carries on

Singing and dancing and shining


The dark.

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