Fruit Jar Fireflies

I see words, and they see me It’s true they are sentient, quite But they will never see the light of my world through my loins They keep floating by, ever speaking never ceasing like tinnitus in my transcendent sight Like orphans from somewhere never Their little fingers grope as they look at me squarely Speaking barely, “bring me into your light” just before they are gone forever So much needless loss I kill my darlings before they become darlings Their lot is to die in the vacuum of my fickle muse If only I could catch them like you do fireflies in a fruit jar How pretty they would be to see in chaotic containment and how witty they could be for those with the sight But alas, my heart cannot hold all the incandescence ink required for such a noble and beautiful task So I shall be satisfied to smile when I catch one or two