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Light in my hand

Light in my hand

Tags: work

Are the fireflies dead?

I have not seen them since I was a child.

Are they wounded?

Are they leaving us like the butterflies?

Do you think they are fallen angels or faeries?

Oh, how they danced for me weaving living lightly through my fingers.

Like the butterflies do they weave chaos in the afterglow of the Aurora Borealis?

Have you watched two dance in a jar?

What joy they brought me as a child.

Like all faeries say a prayer and bring them back.

I personally think they are children waiting, playing with their patents.

Perhaps each time they glow they send a lightning bolt of love between mother and father?




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