First firefly of the season spotted.
I stand very still, almost not breathing, watching inside myself like an ancient hunter stalking a rabbit.
I stalk my heart, my pain, and the motions of my mind. My attention is rapt, hoping to kill, to love, to end the tortured life of the hurt inside me.
Only attention will do it, so I pay rapt attention. I listen to the feelings going through my heart like my life depended on it.
Because there's nothing else to do, and I'm tired of doing nothing.
Sometimes, little flecks of light drift out of my heart, like dandelion seeds blown on an unknown wind, like fireflies searching for a home. Touching down on random objects; sunsets, a finger, a big white wolf-dog, a piece of seaweed,
they impregnate the world with love.
I'd like that to happen more often.
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