The gleaming sun darts behind the horizon,
and for a second the sky is empty.
Then the black curtains, the carriers of the Night, fall and open wide,
and as the day dies, it is mourned, as the Earth solemnly wears its dark veil.
 
Yet through the darkness fly the performers of the night.
These twinkling bodies dance gracefully across the stage of twilight,
casting their faint beams upon the sleeping world.
As they sparkle, their choreographed routine shatters the darkness
 in  a beautiful spectacle worthy of a standing ovation.
 
Temporarily the stage belongs to them.
In unison, the performers of the night illuminate the darkness,
as their bodies smear strokes of light on the blank, black canvas of dusk.
 
But too soon the sun peeks out from its grave,
and their ephemeral performance is brought to an end.
Slaves to the day and the sun, the performers’ beauty expires,
extinguished by the powerful rays of their resurrected master.
Although inevitably their lights will always fade,
I will never forget the performers of the night,
Or the shimmering gold beams they leave on my heart, 
For in day or night, or dark or light,
The beauty of the fireflies lives on.