3
I have been
called to join them and play. “Hurry up”, they said. “Soon it will be morning.
Soon it will be over.”
(Because their
gods urged them to stop by the first signs of the morning sunshine.)
This is a
kind of magic that hurts. Let’s say it comes with a price. They are flames we
don’t see and we seek them when we search for meaning.
Boom! It’s
three o’clock after midnight now. It’s time for the game to be over.
But fireflies come around.
I used to
be fond of Nature in a way that made me consider being a biologist or some
sort of helpful ecologist. Now I feel useless as a human being and I’ve had my
winds broken by evil. Should I get back or should I leave? Should I be silent
instead?
Fireflies are
still nearby shining as little creatures with sun lights and I reckon it’s too
late to listen, too late to perform acts of sacrifice, for I will have to
disappoint their gods and live as animals do, though my heart feels heavy
inside.
The period those
insects have come here to complete in life is almost as short as mine compared to eternity.
Should any man tell themselves when to live or die?
Why, oh,
why… this is the only time I have come to think of it. Fireflies!
Goodbye,
whales that have died.