Day after day, I become of less use to myself.
I can be found where the song goes, that much is true. No one has to guess; those who know me could say as much and those who only know what I do could as well. These are not two separate groups, anyway, I only divide them for my own sake. At other times, in other places, these are two; here, they are not. I ponder at how such things befall me. “Oh, to be beautiful,” or “Oh, to be talented,” or “Oh, to be a wanderer,” are all disguises for the truth. I wear them like a rich aunt’s finest coat. Most of us do, I hope. It makes me feel a little less alone, to think that.
Word spread fast of the fireflies and their blankets of light. Poet to poet, and in this manner I am one of the first to know, but that doesn’t mean much because everyone told everyone else, and so we are all here, together, first to know. Not even the children clamber over each other to reach for the light; we are united in song and beauty and a deep deep love. I sing, of course, and have only left the violin elsewhere so that she is not broken by a careless dancer. I dance, too, and the fireflies fall in strings over and under and around me, the river set aglow as they turn my dappling to mirror-light. I only give pause when my merriment leads me to bump into another. ”Excuse me,” I sing, melodious and slow, so the fireflies cover us both. I think not of drowning in the river-water, but in the light.
@Asterion || After Reading Tu Fu, I Go Outside to the Dwarf Orchard
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
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