Frogs, Crickets, and Fireflies

Last night, I lay awake in the dead of the night. With my eyes as dim and sharp as a twinkling lightbulb, I sat in the darkness, watching the hours slip away in their numbers like the world was in fact coming to its end.

Or maybe it is. Nowadays, no one can tell for sure.

My mind, clustered with many thoughts, things, and deeds—many insignificant, some unrepentant. I moved from the comfort of my bed to the door, circling back and forth, eyes spinning but resting on nothing specifically.

And in the heat of that tyranny to self, in the heat of the silence that screams louder than the screams of that newborn child, I met the face of a new world at the window stand. It felt like I stood above something never seen, even from the very first floor of every tall building.

But I saw clearly, and therefore, I asked in my heart,

"Would you rather be the dampened soil in an ugly night or a firefly scattering the dark with little pieces of light, making your vision a bit brighter, or your darkness less darker?"

“In this phase of inactivity, which you hate so, would you rather have a firefly in the palm of your hand or have them overwhelm you into transience?”

What about the frogs making those bossy noises, claiming their territory in a small piece of land in the dead of the night?

Though we won't come face-to-face, I fear they already have a face, like humans who yearn to exist somewhere other than what is made visible to our naked eyes. There's still quiet, yet a boastfulness hidden in the rattle noises they make.

Oh, crickets? Are they crickets or just chirping sounds that wake the mind to consciousness more than living? I imagine them gritting their teeth, hopping on leaves, and having their meals on a cool evening or on a deadly dark that embraces silence more often than their marvellous sight.

Like me, these frogs, crickets, and fireflies have a simple wish. I believe we have that in common—to chatter away in hiding, to be our world in the midst of all worldliness, to be natural and real when others scream, "vanity."

So, that night, I found two things—curiosity and a bit of rest at this beautiful life over the window stand.

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