What light really is

Light doesn’t come from the sun
It emanates from small little lightflies
They meet the sun half way
He’s tired you know
There are zillions of them
They swallow the light and flutter down to the flowers,
The trees and the people
Sometimes they rest on clouds
And on rooftops
And often atop perfect mushrooms
And when they tire
And their light begins to fade
They flutter up to drink of more
They do this for them
And for us
All day
And when the sun
Turns his face
The lightflies
Rest their wings and settle in to sleep
In the spaces between our dreams, the stars and goodnight kisses
Until we meet them



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