BLOOD OF FIREFLIES
We gathered life within our grasp
blazing sparks of the fireflies.
I asked him,
"Do you think they see the heavens?"
Caught within our mighty hands,
echoed their pale illuminations.
We laughed with a childish rasp
at our Olympian machinations
as we crushed them against the pavement,
in an attempt to write,
in ungainly font,
glowing syllables our fingers traced
with the blood of a creature
we, as gods, forgot.
Precious life is always lost
in moments of violence
disguised as divining.
We gloat in the respite
of childhood responsibility,
drifting away from who we once adored.
As the chill of this nepenthe
soaks memory,
I inhale
my soul sorrowful and laden,
broken by the failures
my past self sought.
Walking forward
into perhaps a final sleep,
I’ll dream of us once again
slipping into the plutonian nevermore.
©Itz_frost
I