the existence of silence can be found in depth of–

the stars; dead sparkling light enchanting.

the life can be found throbbing in the bell jar;

light, pale golden silver, of moon is hazed blue (from here).

memories of past, bygone hoods changing shape

with times–sometimes fireflies,

sometimes shapeless abstract figures…

the bray of heart, I heard, as I pressed both–

my ear, to pillow, and, my eyes like a hare facing danger…

life outside the jar dead immobile; inside lost vagabond…



39 thoughts on “Fireflies

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