Do You Dream of Fireflies?

I’ve been running for so long, always cautious about leaving a trace. But even quiet boys will eventually attract the attention of wolves. I can hear their mocking howls between the braying and gnashing of teeth.

Pushing past the briars; scratching at memories. Trying to uncover a deeper meaning, instead of only causing further pain. If left to fester, such wounds would make their way to the heart, through sinuous vines of scarlet and screams—arresting all thought & feeling.

The arches of my feet collapse and so the rest of the bridge comes crashing down. The long, unloved grass catches me in a motherly embrace. I make an imprint on nature and remember the snow angels we used to make together—I’m lost.

The ebon clouds yawn and spit up the moon. It, like all of us ultimately will be, is alone. Longing to see stars and looking for a path back to its love. Gaia sees her son and daughter and whispers into the ear of the firefly. Take these children o’ mine and guide them.

As the moon and I exchange glances a light suddenly appears. Then another one, and another. We witness the birth of a new galaxy as billions upon billions of new stars rise & fall. Ephemeral yet constant.

They carry me away and by sunrise, neither the moon, myself—or our newborn galaxy can be found.

beneath the sempiternal horizon we live amongst fireflies and love;
imprinting our journey onto the back of a shy sun.

I decided after writing this that perhaps there was a visual form this poem could take. Before I knew it I found the visual informing the text and made adjustments accordingly. It’s fascinating to watch how the brain can make new connections and find new and interesting ways to represent a piece. I think my experiences with Haiga and graphic design helped to create something aesthetically pleasing. Anyway, you’ll find the visual version of this poem below. Have you created any visual poems? Let me know!

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Grew up in the Essex countryside and currently resides in London. Passing through his 30s far too quickly. Likes: writing, design, the arts, and copious amounts of coffee. He is working on his first novel.

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