emerald sea

the Conquest of the Firefly

a fiery glow invades the tent,
then dark descends again ~

the tarp of midnight hangs o'erhead;
the Moon, sole lantern still aglow,
radiates a dim soft gleam

its shadows strewn about the tent
personified, arise to life,

and crickets sing their lullabies,
beguiling men to sleep...

swaddled in their sleeping bags,
their snores are mingled with my thoughts

while i, bedazzled, lie awake
alert for sparks of light ~~
in tent of sleepers, the lone soul
in battle with repose

i fight o'erpowering gravity
weighing my eyelids down;
abstain seducing weariness
enticing me with rest

enamoring my mind so much
i crave, i long to just let go -
relax into the arms of sleep
where all is always well

but, no! the fleeting *glow* returns

this momentary spark of light
emblazens in my soul
a fire - desire - for stimulation
rather than for sleep

the sleep i love, the sleep i crave,
surrendered ~

all for fireflies.

why is it that we give up that which we know we need, know we want, know would bring our souls rest, all for a little excitement?