Fireflies Poems の小説・ストーリー

The poem went this way, Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I did not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uprising rush Oh quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

His hand slides behind my neck, pulling me closer. Our lips are only an inch apart when a flicker of light catches my eye. “Goddess… is that a firefly?” I ask, my voice rising with genuine excitement. He stops, stepping back and turning to look. “There are many in this part of the garden,” he says. They are everywhere, tiny stars drifting through the darkness. “This is beautiful. I have never seen them before. I've only ever heard the others describe them,” I whisper, almost afraid to touch the moment.

The first thing I noticed wasn't the silence—though that would come later, pressing against my eardrums like cotton wool—but the lights. Tiny pinpricks of gold that danced between the trees like earthbound stars, too regular to be sunlight filtering through leaves, too purposeful to be mere reflection. Fireflies, my rational mind insisted. Nothing more than insects going about their evening business, despite the fact that it was barely past dawn and fireflies didn't typically illuminate forests in broad daylight.

On the night of my fifth wedding anniversary with Sebastian Gray, he lit up the entire city with fireworks for me. All our friends kept saying what a wonderful man he was—so loving, so romantic. The kind of husband every woman dreams of. At the grand finale, the fireworks burst into words that lit up the night sky: Happy Birthday, Jen. Jennifer Kingsley was Sebastian's first love, his ideal woman, the one who had always lingered in his heart. Sebastian looked at me, his expression almost sheepish. "Ah, it's Jen's birthday too. They must have mixed up the fireworks."

Both of them agreed to leave made up excuses so they could sneak out of the party. “Oops, be careful,” said Teacher Greg as he guided Steffy towards the part where there was better lighting. They passed by a huge fish pond that looked so serene as the moon hovered over them. Fireflies were seen flying around the trees just a little further away and the sight ha truly captivated Steffy’s attention. “Do you know that our province has many mythical stories about fireflies?” the teacher asked. Steffy nodded her head in response. “Of course, I read books, you know. Some stories say that fireflies indicate the presence of elementals, and others say that they are lost souls looking for the pathways

Whispers and murmurs, it is not clear to her ears but it is noisy, she frowns and slowly opens her eyes, she hears squeaking sounds and flapping of wings like from a bee. One, two and more fireflies she thought, kept circling around and giving light to the dark cave.slowly Barrett pushed herself up and looked around, she is still in the same ruin that she has entered, but it is more damp and the soil looks richer. One of the fireflies stopped in front of her face, she blinked twice and thought it was just an illusion.

The fireflies are flying outside in the sunset as if they were series of small light bulbs or stars, twinkling on the twilight. They were flying towards me and I couldn’t help but smile. It’s beautiful. I want to cry! Oh, gosh! I waved my hand and they moved towards the direction of where I was waving. The fireflies were in sync with movements. “Wow…Is this…even possible?”

“You insisted they weren’t insects.” “I was wrong,” I replied. “No,” he said gently. “You were hopeful.” I stopped walking. He noticed immediately. “That’s not the same thing,” I said. “It used to be,” he answered. A firefly blinked near my hand. Then another. Then dozens. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “They’re still here,” I whispered. “They always come back this time of year,” Darius said. “Even when everything else changes.” I laughed softly. “That feels unfairly poetic.”

Once, the world is filled with colorful light; however, it happened in a blink of an eye and everything turn blank and black. The fireflies slowly filling the dark; not long after, the civilization of hunters keeps the stability of the old and let the misery be the reminder of the hope. The classics is form and the fireflies materialize with intention of keeping everyone under control. This is more so of the desire of those who try to cross the far beyond. “Let me through as I am bless with bestowal fate of classics,” someone said that echoeng throughout the darkness.

* I saw the beauty of the sky Colors so vibrant you'd think they never die * I saw the beauty of the waves Every splash telling a story of younger days * I saw the beauty of the rains Every drop falling freely like horses without reins * I saw the beauty of the night For only then were the stars alight * I saw the beauty in the flames of a fire Each one burning with a different desire * I saw the beauty of Gold Glistening with bitter stories untold * Oh I saw the beauty of dust and clay Simple reminders of our end someday.