There's a small spot in the forest
where the thicket reigns as King.
A canopy of dying leaves ensures
no chance of sunshine seeping in.
Where the worms and beetles
burrow forever down to join their kin;
blissfully ignorant automatons,
free of will and all our sin.
All around, faint glows lie.
It draws those burrowing beasts
to trample, touch and pry.
No sooner did that faint glow emerge
than it had to say goodbye.
Amongst the forest thicket King,
the Fireflies go to die.
