FIRELIES

FIREFLIES

The millions of fireflies that linger on hot summer nights, are they sighs of the sun, which misses the night, or the rays of a suspicious sun watching over the cheeky moon?
I still do not know who these little beings will be who wander the long nights of Guaíba and then at dawn leave without warning.
Some say that they are souls of the little ones who left prematurely and who want to find the way to heaven, for they have lost themselves in the night and are gone every morning in a constant flight of the day.
Others say that they are the tears of young world stars who, in the inviolable distance of time, weep for longing for the strange lack of the stars of the sea.
To me these little bright beings that blink stubbornly beyond my vision are particles of my longing, aging with me.
                                                   
 * J.L.BORGES