Blinking

Children, as they sleep, process new information into memories. Parents, while their children sleep, contemplate the future—

Tonight, though, I am at war with myself, examining my life's frustrating contours, revealing my weaknesses and faults—

What weapon can arrest the march of the doldrums, our steady processional toward the solitude of death?

What must I do to transcend the weight of living, to commune with God while still here—

To signal to the fireflies, my lacking light, I understand.