I was having one of those melancholy days when the sky was gray, it was cold and getting dark the follow thought came into mind:
Emotions are like fireflies in the dark. They are bright, beautiful, delicate, and difficult to grasp. They illuminate where they land, but they are never safe. They remain elusive and in flight to escape the grasp of a predatory reasoning that interprets them as weak, worthless and too whimsical to value. If caught, their little dead bodies will be set adrift in the wind under a dark lifeless sky.
To rescue them, I quickly run in the dark tripping over stones and logs to bottle them up to keep them safe. A large jar holds a handful circling wonderfully and glowing brightly. I awake in the middle of the night. It’s dark. I saved them and hid them away only to find them suffocated. I open the jar then the window. I set their bodies adrift in the wind.
