Hail them glow worms- Seeming so trivial, Yet so noble. Bearing the torch, Carrying the glow- the fire, Rising from lands- Wet and moist and humid, Celebrating the irony- The opposites- Water and Fire.
They do not trumpet, They do not flash, Their vivid aristocracy. Growing their name, From the low lands To the skies up above. They become the beacon Of light in the darkest of times. Then- do they fret or fear? – No.
Filling me with awe, Each time witnessing them. Burgeoning a dynasty, Long lost to time. Long lost to place. Singing at night, With no audience, Songs of their mothers. Carrying their legacy- Epitomes of sacrifice. Their glow being lost, For the life to go on.