At night, deep in slumber, I lay down
waiting for the fireflies of dreams
to flicker and light up the darkness.
They come, unsuspectingly alight,
and are caught in Mason canning jars.
Though there are many holes in the lid,
nothing can soar, thrive, in containment.

The love in my heart yearns to be free--
to be spread over life’s history--
but somebody screwed the lid on tight.
So every sensation, pulsation,
measured score, is shorter than if shared.
The jar of my body may shatter
as there aren’t enough holes in the lid.

Love is a beacon. I’m a firefly
enticed by the moments of living.
Even enveloped in darkness, He
catches me in the palm of His hand
and with love, grace, frees me eternity.
Miniscule love shines a bright spotlight;
enough that I’ll live infinity ...

a small firefly of humanity.