Fireflies in the sky.

I caught a firefly on one dark, moonless night. She flickered and flickered and flickered. As if she were teasing me and bragging about her own charm. I didn't respond. I gazed at her, dumbstruck, intrigued and possibly consummated by her beauty. She stood up in the air as though there was nothing more supreme than herself. I said, 'The fire-crackers mimic you too' for I didn't want  her to be aware of the fact that I too admired her. This time, the firefly chose to remain refractory.

That made me wonder if the firefly could seep in through my mind and irrefutably be cognizant of my actual thoughts about her. She buzzed all around as busy as a bee. Stealing the whole show. Her striking red hair and flaming eyes are bright as the Mid-summer sun. Her know-all spirit makes her glow, distracting you and me.

Little boys chase her. But she dodges left and right, confusing them and disappointing them. She flies high above and her gesture conveys that she's too pure for them or anyone else. The little boys pout and frown in dismay. She's still beautiful, the thought prevails.

I wanted to be many people. Now, I wanted to be her. A firefly. A firefly is never glum, she just glows and glitters and twinkles. Because how could you be glumly when the sun shines out of your head. I looked deep into her eyes. She said she doesn't wait for the summer but makes summer with her glow.

At one distance, the star gleamed. Struck with jealousy upon my new found love towards the firefly. The star was very far, but the firefly was very near, very real and very hypnotic. I always loved the stars, I knew they would be back at the same place if I returned tomorrow. But the firefly, she would radiate off.

My mind glowed. I recollected Og Mandino's quotes- " I will become a firefly and even in the day my glow will be seen in spite of the sun. Let others be as butterflies who preen their wings and yet depend upon the charity of a flower for life. I will be as the firefly and my light will brighten the world." 
The firefly was at its epitome of pride. A pride she deserved.

Fireflies are messengers at night. See, magic does exist. I hope she returns someday, with all her friends, beautifying the night sky. Some October night, maybe.