Firefly

[Guest guest]

Firefly

 

In the dead of night

moonshine dances with shadows

on a dusty, dirt road.

The heat of a sullen summer heat wave

bites deep like a mosquito and sucks the cool.

 

Out the corner of my eye

I saw the ember of a firefly.

But for a split instant before

I thought it was a fairy

come to tell me something.

 

...funny how mind is.

 

A jet streaks by against the dark

like an alien craft.

Or is it an alien craft streaking like a jet?

 

...funny how mind is.

 

A single blade of grass

stands out

in the field

of my perception.

 

What trickery.

Who hid all the rest?

 

I stop to listen to a symphony of noise

that noises in angelspeak.

It's carried softly in the wind,

spoken from trees,

from rocks and slender grass...

 

Angel tongue.

Angel fire.

Angel rhyme rhythm rhyming.

 

Everyone all at once

in the midst of ever clear

 

It's late.

I must go home.

 

A shadow waves good-bye at the time of departure.

 

Who knew?

 

The wind blew, leaving no clues

and an uncooperative ocean just shrugs

as a wave claims yet another castle made of sand.

 

Everyone has left and I've forgotten;

Now who is left

to remember an erased memory?

[Guest guest]

Dear David,

 

This is one of the most beautiful poems I've seen,

and the end is sad and rather haunting.

 

Let us never stop building sand castles, even

if the ocean always devours them in the end.

 

Touched,

 

Tim

 

At 02:46 AM 3/19/99 -0500, you wrote:

>>>>

Firefly

 

In the dead of night

moonshine dances with shadows

on a dusty, dirt road.

The heat of a sullen summer heat wave

bites deep like a mosquito and sucks the cool.

 

Out the corner of my eye

I saw the ember of a firefly.

But for a split instant before

I thought it was a fairy

come to tell me something.

 

...funny how mind is.

 

A jet streaks by against the dark

like an alien craft.

Or is it an alien craft streaking like a jet?

 

...funny how mind is.

 

A single blade of grass

stands out

in the field

of my perception.

 

What trickery.

Who hid all the rest?

 

I stop to listen to a symphony of noise

that noises in angelspeak.

It's carried softly in the wind,

spoken from trees,

from rocks and slender grass...

 

Angel tongue.

Angel fire.

Angel rhyme rhythm rhyming.

 

Everyone all at once

in the midst of ever clear

 

It's late.

I must go home.

 

A shadow waves good-bye at the time of departure.

 

Who knew?

 

The wind blew, leaving no clues

and an uncooperative ocean just shrugs

as a wave claims yet another castle made of sand.

 

Everyone has left and I've forgotten;

Now who is left

to remember an erased memory?

 

 

<<<<

 

 

 

-----

The CORE of Reality awaits you at:

http://www.eskimo.com/~fewtch/ND/index.html -

Poetry, Writings, Live Chat on spiritual topics.

[Guest guest]

 

Tim Gerchmez [fewtch]

Friday, March 19, 1999 2:50 AM

Re: Firefly

 

Tim Gerchmez <fewtch

 

 

Dear David,

 

This is one of the most beautiful poems I've seen,

and the end is sad and rather haunting.

 

Let us never stop building sand castles, even

if the ocean always devours them in the end.

 

Touched,

 

Tim

 

 

Harsha: Tim, and for those who don't know, David Bozzi is a great poet and

has a website called inkblot devoted to his poetry. You will enjoy it Tim.

[Guest guest]

At 10:52 AM 3/19/99 -0500, you wrote:

>Harsha: Tim, and for those who don't know, David Bozzi is a great poet and

>has a website called inkblot devoted to his poetry. You will enjoy it Tim.

 

Thank you Harsha, he has it in the "Organization" header of his Emails. I

visited the page briefly and bookmarked it for later careful reading.

 

With Love and Om,

 

Tim

 

 

-----

The CORE of Reality awaits you at:

http://www.eskimo.com/~fewtch/ND/index.html -

Poetry, Writings, Live Chat on spiritual topics.