Reaching for light

Stuck here in the dark night
grasping at each blinking light,
we reach toward the fireflies,
praying that they are a door
opening… opening to the day.
A way out of this cloud of lies,
a blinding place of heavy air,
we long for those infinite, sweet,
light, spring, breezes of may.
That place where trees bloom,
filling the the air, fragrant and fair.
Covered in a darkening sheet
of heavy, stifling, scary unreality,
suffocating us in blackness,
we feel like we’re drowning
sinking in some sea of gloom.
Hoping well find the latchkey,
to open that door to gladness,
that place where smiles mingle,
laughing when we’re clowning.
We dream in darkness, this night
reaching for a blinking firefly’s light.
Crying in desperation for relief,
crying to be able to freely breath.
We run after each tiny hope,
like a bunch of little children grasping
at bright glittery lights,  desperately,
as if our lives depend on them.
Maybe they do, it’s a way to cope,
a way to find all our lost laughing.
Believing all those fireflies are like
some far off sparkling diadem.
So tirelessly up this endless hill,
tirelessly, we climbing higher hike.
Until we find the shining door,
that we heard just might exist
in some ancient passed-down lore.