leaving your grasp

It floats before you; a firefly making itself present.

Movements, often short, but always wild, continuously furthering from your grip.

Scanning for its next arrival, mesmerized by the incandescent,

your hands are clasped, hoping you don’t slip.

By July they’ve gone. You are no longer chasing their light,

and staring in the dark. You search, waiting for a glimmer,

yet, you are met with the all-encompassing night.

If only you had embraced their beauty quicker.

Here today, there tomorrow, our focus has shifted too often,

that the importance of each day is constantly evolving.

A moment passes and concepts become foreign,

allowing for the issues that plague life to always be revolving.

Space and time have provided us with perspective,

but their creation has only controlled and hindered our subjective.