Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.
Fireflies by Robert Frost
Yet beautiful still, like growing trees,
Painting a world a bit frosty but free.
So simple, so insightful, starting one two and three.
With crawling, then running and soaring of many paces
Step by step challenging other slow racers
Till only the stars, can see our lost places.
To share that world in black and white,
To hear and touch, with taste smell and sight.
Painting colour, new minds may see.
Just, listen to me, you might find yourself free.