We are the glow, we are the dullness
We are born as rhinoceros beetles, with a unicorn’s horn
On our tips and ledges
We eventually become fireflies
We transform, we metamorphose
We renew our bodies from solitude to solace.
When we molt the unicorn’s horn
And make light pour in from another white-lighter
And we pour that out, as luminescence.
We open windows that become doors.
And doors lead to little rooms.
And when we have lit the room with a bulb
We find a little home that we will
Enter thousands of times more.
And we keep a shoebox inside of us
That collects mementos from every room.
The stolen moments of bliss, of paradise, of medium.
And some doors are always open
They never close.
That is how you know you’re in love.